The Beast Within - A Tale of Bea - Serena Valentino

Title: The Beast Within
Subtitle: A Tale of Beauty’s Prince

Author: Serena Valentino
Imprint: Disney Press
In-Store Date: 7/22/2014
ISBN: 978-1423159124
Price: $16.99 US
eBook ISBN: 9781423196372
Trim size: 7 x 5 ½
Page Count: 256 pages
Ages: 10 and up
Grades: 5 and up
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The Beast Within
A Tale of Beauty’s Prince
By Serena Valentino
New York • Los Angeles

Adapted in part from Walt Disney’s Beauty and the Beast
Copyright © 2014 Disney Enterprises, Inc. Published by Disney Press, an

imprint of Disney Book Group. All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic
or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information
storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.
For information address Disney Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale,
California 91201.
Printed in the United States of America

First Edition
[Insert Print Line]
ISBN 978-1-4231-5912-4
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013946516
This book is set in 13-point Garamond 3.
Reinforced binding
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[PRINTER: Insert SFI BADGE]
Dedicated to my dearest love, Shane Case
—S.V.
Chapter I
The Witches in
the Rose Garden
The Beast stood in his rose garden, the overwhelm-

ing scent of new blossoms making him slightly dizzy.
His garden always seemed to have a life of its own, as
if the twisting thorny vines could wrap themselves
around his racing heart and put an end to his anxiety.
There were times when he wished they would, but
now his mind was filled with images of the beautiful
young woman inside his castle: Belle, so brave and
noble—willing to take her father’s place as a prisoner
in the castle dungeon. What sort of woman would do
that—give up her life so easily, sacrificing her freedom
for his? The Beast wondered if he was capable of such a
sacrifice. He wondered if he was capable of love.
1
The Beast Within
He stood there looking at the view of his castle

from the garden. He tried to recall how the castle
had looked before the curse. It was different now—
menacing, and alive. Even the spires of his castle
seemed to consciously pierce the sky with a violent
fervor. He could only imagine how the place looked
from a distance. It was tall and imposing and
perched on the top of the highest mountain in the
kingdom, and it appeared as though it were cut
from the very mountain itself, surrounded by a thick
green forest filled with dangerous wild creatures.
Only since he had been forced to spend his life
hidden within its wretched walls and on its grounds
had he done such things like take in his surround-
ings this way—actually see and, indeed, feel them.
He now contemplated the moonlight casting sin-
ister shadows on the statues flanking the path that
led from the castle to his garden—large winged
creatures more frightening than anything from the
ancient stories the tutors of his youth had made him
study. He couldn’t recall these sculptures being
there before the castle and its lands were enchanted.
2
The Witches in the Rose Garden
There had been many changes since the witches

had brought their enchantments. The topiaries, for
example, seemed to snarl at him as he prowled the
labyrinth on evenings like this, attempting to take
his mind off his troubles.
He had long since gotten used to the statues’
watchful eyes glancing at him when he wasn’t
looking at them directly—and their slight move-
ments he caught only out of the corner of his eye.
He couldn’t escape the feeling of being watched,
and had almost gotten used to it. Almost. And the
grand entrance of his castle seemed to him like a
gaping mouth prepared to devour him. He spent as
much time outdoors as possible. The castle felt like a
prison, and as large as it was, it confined him, chok-
ing the life out of him.
Once, when he was still—dare he think it!—
human, he spent much of his time out of doors.
He would stalk wild beasts in his forests for sport,
but when he himself turned into something to be
hunted, he shut himself away in those first years,
never leaving the West Wing, let alone the castle.
3
The Beast Within
Perhaps that was why he now detested being

within doors: he had once spent so much time
locked away by his own fear.
When the castle was first enchanted, he thought
that his mind was playing tricks on him—that sim-
ply the idea of the curse had driven him mad. But
he now knew everything that surrounded him was
alive, and he was fearful any further misdeeds on his
part would send his ememies into a frenzy, and they
would make him suffer even more for the pain he
had caused so many before he became a beast. The
physical transformation was only part of the curse.
There was much more, and it was far too frighten-
ing to think of.
Right now he wanted to think of the only thing
that could calm him even slightly. He wanted to
think of her.
Belle.
He looked upon the lake to the right of garden,
the moon creating beautiful silver patterns on the
rippling water. Apart from his thoughts of Belle,
this was the only tranquility he had been afforded
4
since the curse. He spent many hours here, careful

not to catch sight of his own reflection, though
sometimes he was tempted. He was fully aware of
the revulsion it would bring.
He had been almost obsessed with his reflection
when the curse began to take hold, and he quite
liked the little changes in his appearance at first, the
deep lines he mused had made his young face more
fearsome to his enemies. But now . . . now that the
curse had overtaken him completely, he couldn’t
stand the sight of himself. Every mirror in the castle
had been broken or shut away in the West Wing.
His terrible deeds were engraved on his face, and
that sent a hollow, wretched feeling deep into his
gut, sickening him.
But enough of that.
He had a beautiful woman within his walls. She
was a willing captive, someone to talk to, and yet he
couldn’t even bring himself to face her.
Fear.
It gripped him again. Would his fear now keep
him outside, where once it had shut him in? Fear
5
The Beast Within
of going within doors and facing the girl? She was

a wise woman. Had she no idea his fate was in her
hands?
The statues watched, as they always did, when he
heard the click of tiny boots on the stone path head-
ing in his direction, disturbing his musings. . . .
The odd sisters! Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha, an
indistinguishable trio of witches with inky-black
ringlets, a milky pallor with the texture of bleached
driftwood, and red baby-doll lips, were standing
before him in his rose garden. Their faces were
glowing in the moonlight like those of ghosts with
mocking expressions. Their finery was glittering like
stardust in his dark garden, while the plumage in
their hair was making their birdlike gestures all the
more grotesque. There was a nervousness about them;
they were seized by a constant series of little twitches
and gestures, as if they were in continuous communi-
cation with each other even when they weren’t speak-
ing. They seemed to be taking measure of him. And
he let them. He stood in silence, as he often did when
they came to him, waiting for them to speak.
6
They appeared whenever they pleased and always

without warning. Never mind it was his castle, and
his gardens. He had long before given up on insist-
ing that they appear at his will. He soon discovered
his own desires were of no consequence to them.
Their laughs were shrill and seemed to mock the
tiny glimmer of hope the witches detected within
his dark and lonely heart. Lucinda was the first to
speak, as was their custom. He couldn’t help being
transfixed by her face when she spoke to him. She
looked like an odd doll come to life, with her por-
celain skin and ratty clothes, and her unfaltering
monotone voice only made the scene more macabre.
“So, you’ve captured yourself a pretty little thing
at long last.”
He didn’t bother asking how they knew Belle
had come to his castle. He had his theories on how
they always seemed to know everything about him,
but didn’t care to share them with the sisters.
“We’re surprised, Beast,” said Martha, her pale
blue eyes watery and globelike.
“Yes, surprised,” Ruby spat with an eerie wide
7
The Beast Within
grin animating her too-red lips morbidly, like a

dead creature brought to life by evil incantations.
“We expected your condition to have progressed
by now,” said Lucinda, her head cocked slightly to
the right while she looked at him. “We dreamed of
you running in the wood hunting smaller prey.”
Ruby continued, “We dreamed of hunters track-
ing you down.”
Martha laughed and said, “Hunting you like
the beast you are and mounting your head on the
Huntsmen’s Tavern wall.”
“Why, you’re even wearing clothes, we see.
Holding on to the last shred of your humanity, is
it?” they said in unison.
The Beast did nothing to betray his terror—
terror not of the witches’ magic but of his own
threatening nature, of which they were reminding
him. They were holding a mirror up to the monster
within, who was longing to escape. It was a beast
that wanted to kill the witches and everything else
in its path. He longed to see blood and bones, to
taste their flesh. If he tore at their throats with his
8
claws, he’d never have to listen to their shrill taunt-

ing voices again.
Lucinda laughed.
“Now that is what we expected of you, Beast.”
And Martha said, “He will never capture Belle’s
heart, Sister, no matter how desperate he is to break
the curse.”
“He’s too far gone now, I daresay.”
“Perhaps if he showed her how he once looked,
she may have pity on him,” Ruby said as a madden-
ing cacophony of laughter filled the rose garden.
“Pity him, yes, but love him? Never!”
The Beast used to hurl insults back at them,
but it seemed only to fuel their passion for cruelty,
and he didn’t dare stir up his own anger and desire
for violence, so he just stood stock-still, waiting for
their little torture session to end.
Martha spoke again. “In case you’ve forgotten,
here are the rules, Beast, laid out by we three sisters:
You must love her; that love must be returned; you
must experience true love’s kiss before your twenty-
first birthday. She may use the mirror as you do, to
9
The Beast Within
see into the world beyond your kingdom, but she

must never know the details of the curse or how it’s
to be broken. You will notice she sees the castle and
its enchantments differently than yourself. The most
terrifying aspects of the curse are reserved for you.”
The Beast stared blankly at the witches.
Martha smiled creepily and continued, “This is
your one advantage. The only thing in this castle
or on its grounds that will frighten Belle is your
visage.”
Lucinda chimed in. “When was the last time you
looked upon your reflection, Prince? Or saw to the
rose?”
There had been a time when the rose wasn’t
out of his sight. Lately he tried to forget it. He had
almost expected the sisters’ visit this evening would
be to inform him that the last petal had fallen off
its enchanted stem. But they were just here to mock
him, as always, to tempt him into violence, and
they’d love nothing more than to see his soul further
besmirched.
Lucinda’s cackling voice brought him out of
10
his reverie. “It won’t be long now. . . .”

Martha continued, “Not long at all, Beast.”
“Soon the last petal will fall and you shall remain
in this form with no chance of transformation to
your former self.”
“And on that day . . .”
“We will dance!” they finished in unison.
The Beast finally spoke. “And what of the
others? Are they to remain as they are, doomed to
enchantment as well?”
Ruby’s eyes widened in wonder. “Concern? Is
that what we detect? Isn’t that odd?”
“Concern for himself.”
“Yes, for himself, always himself, never others.”
“Why would he concern himself with servants?
He never gave them a second thought, unless it was
to punish them.”
“I think he’s afraid of what they might do to him
if he doesn’t break the curse.”
“I think you’re right, Sister.”
“I am also interested in seeing what they’ll do.”
“It shall be a gruesome spectacle indeed.”
11
The Beast Within
“And we shall take much pleasure in bearing

witness to it.”
“Don’t forget, Beast, true love, both given and
received, before the last petal falls.”
And with that the sisters turned on the heels of
their tiny pointed boots and clicked their way out
of the rose garden, the sound fading little by little
until they vanished into a sudden mist and the Beast
could no longer hear them at all.
12
Chapter II
The Refusal
The Beast sighed and slumped down on the stone

bench in the shadow of the winged-creature statue
hovering above him. Its shadow mingled with his
own—his face and its wings—merging into what
looked like a Shedu, the winged lion from ancient
myth. It had been so long since he’d seen even his
shadow that he hardly knew what he looked like,
and this shadow stirred a great interest in him.
With an infusion of light the shadow faded into
nothingness. Remaining was a new stark white
statue, wearing a passive expression. It was neither
male nor female—not as far as he could surmise,
anyway—and it was standing completely still with
13
The Beast Within
a small brass candelabrum in one hand, candles

burning, while the other hand was pointing toward
the castle entrance. It was as if the stone figure was
commanding him back to the castle, back into the
gaping mouth.
He feared if he returned, the castle would at long
last devour him.
He made his way to the castle, leaving the silent
statue and the sisters’ taunting words in the garden.
The light from the candelabrum looked tiny now,
like fireflies in the distance.
The statue would make its way back in its own
time, more than likely when the Beast was far
enough away. They never moved or came to him
while he was looking at them directly; they were
always sneaking up on him while his attentions were
elsewhere. It frightened him, really, to know they
could come up to him at any time and do with him
what they would, but that was yet another portion
of the curse he had to contend with.
He thought about what the sisters had said, and
wondered how Belle saw the castle’s enchantments
14
The Refusal
and how its cursed servants appeared to her.

As he made his way through the foyer toward
the dining room, he stopped to listen to the muted
voices coming from Belle’s chamber but couldn’t
quite make out what was being discussed. He crept
down the hallway, hoping to get a peek at who she
was speaking to, when he heard a gentleman with a
French accent inviting her to dine. She slammed her
door and refused.
“I won’t! I don’t want anything to do with him!
He’s a monster!”
Monster! His anger got the better of him. “If
she won’t dine with me, then she won’t eat at all,”
he growled, turning the corner and half expecting
to see another of the living statues standing there to
torment him, but the only evidence of anyone hav-
ing been there at all was the small gold candelabrum
he’d just seen in the rose garden, now extinguished,
with a tiny ribbon of smoke curling up from the
smoldering wick.
“She thinks I’m a monster!” he fumed.
He felt his anger mounting, raging out of
15
The Beast Within
control as he stormed his way to the West Wing.

Monster! His claws gouged the wooden banister as
he went up the long stairway, wishing it was flesh
and blood, not splintering wood.
Monster!
There was very little light in this part of the
castle. It was completely dark apart from the moon-
light that came through the tattered red draperies
of his bedroom. Leaning on the far wall were stacks
of different-shaped mirrors covered in white moth-
eaten cloths. Among the mirrors were portraits,
some of which had been destroyed by his anger and
frustration, the visages mocking him as the witches
had, taunting him with his former likeness.
Monster!
He couldn’t light a fire in the staggeringly large
fireplace or the torches on the wall brackets. His
paws couldn’t master tiny things like matches, and
the servants weren’t allowed into the West Wing.
Not even the sisters came to this part of the castle.
He had escaped their mockery for long stretches
of time when he spent most of his days here in the
16
The Refusal
beginning—hiding away, letting his anger swell to

epic proportions, fearful of what he was becoming,
yet intrigued concurrently.
It had been that way at first, hadn’t it? Intriguing.
The subtle differences in his features, the lines
around his eyes that frightened his foes when he
narrowed them. Using a look rather than words
to strike fear into his enemies was very useful
indeed.
He had looked upon himself in the mirror in
those days, trying to distinguish which sorts of
deeds caused the most horrific alterations in his
appearance. Knowing that this was a degenerative
curse that wouldn’t abate.
The sisters seemed to know of his compulsion
and teased him about it, saying he would suffer
the fate of their cousin’s second wife if he wasn’t
careful. The sisters were always talking nonsense,
always speaking in fragments, and suffered from
fits of laughter so severe he hardly knew what they
were on about most of the time. He was not sure
even they were aware. Could it all be the rambling
17
The Beast Within
of maddened minds? Here he was—taunted by

insane crones. He, who had once been a prince.
Once. And now . . . now he couldn’t even venture
out of his gardens or approach a wounded stranger
who might wander from the forest to his castle in
the night without sending him running in fear.
What did Belle think of what little she saw of
him by dungeon torchlight? But he knew, didn’t
he? She’d called him a monster! Leave her to the
servants, then; let them weave tales of his dastardly
deeds! Let them confirm how vile and ugly he was.
He cared not! After all, he was a monster. And mon-
sters knew not feelings, especially the sentiment
called love.
His anger and confusion were quelled as his
head spun from exhaustion. He sat on the bed,
wondering what to do next. The sisters implied that
the girl was his only hope of escaping the curse.
Liars! It would be impossible to expect her to fall in
love with him. He could make her fall in love with
him easily enough if he looked as he once had—
handsome, well groomed, some might say arrogant.
18
The Refusal
Women were easily managed then. A few flow-

ery words of love, feigning some interest in what
she had to say, perhaps showing a pretense of vul-
nerability and the girl was his. And often he didn’t
even need to resort to such nonsense; only if the girl
was exceedingly beautiful would he bother to try to
win her admiration. Typically, his looks alone were
enough to catch them spellbound.
But the way he looked now . . . He had no idea
how to go about this with Belle. He pushed himself
onto his feet, feeling the rough and tattered sheets
with the pads of his paws. Perhaps he should let
servants in to make the bed, dust the windows, and
mop the floors. To have him live more like a human
being than the monster he had become.
He stood on shaking legs, still dizzy from the
rush of animal anger he’d felt when he heard Belle
call him a monster. He moved to the mantel, where
he kept the enchanted mirror the sisters had given
him long before. He stood there for a moment,
taking a deep breath before he looked at himself.
It had been far too long since he had seen his own
19
The Beast Within
reflection. He had to see how his odious deeds had

etched themselves upon his face.
His paw rested on the sheet that was draped over
the frame. Then, in one movement, he tore the sheet
away and tossed it aside, revealing the looking glass
and the tarnished reflection that stared back at him.
Monster!
The only indication of what he had once been was
his soulful blue eyes, which teemed with humanity.
Those hadn’t changed. They were still his.
But in all other respects, he had become exactly
what he had feared. And, indeed, it was worse than
he ever could have fathomed.
His knees buckled as his world started to close
in. His scope became narrower until he found him-
self in utter darkness, spiraling into a vision of his
past—of himself as he’d once been, before he became
a monster. Before he became the Beast.
20
Chapter III
T he Prince
Before the curse, life had been good to the Prince.

To hear the sisters tell the tale of the curse would
be to hear a story filled with examples of what a ter-
rible person he was, a list of his misdeeds, tallied one
by one, each of them worse and nastier than the one
before, until the sisters swooped down on him with
their spell, deforming him into the pathetic beast
now lying on his bedroom floor before his mirror.
Eventually, that is indeed how the story will go.
But the sisters won’t be able to spew that part of the
tale at first. Not until the Prince has had his say, a
chance to tell you how much fun he had.
Because there was a time when things were good.
21
The Beast Within
It was a time when the Prince was just an arro-

gant young man, full of pride and keenly aware of
his station in life. What young prince hasn’t found
himself in exactly the same place? What do you
think other princes are like? Are they just charm-
ing men venturing off hither and thither in search
of sleeping brides to awaken with love’s first kiss?
Do you fancy them as dandy gentlemen while they
slay dragons and vanquish foul murdering step-
mothers? Perhaps they do that sort of thing without
the slightest bit of ego or aggression? One moment
they’re hacking their way through enchanted killer
thornbushes only to find a fire-breathing dragon
primed for murder on the other side, and the next
they’re expected to waltz with their new brides in
pastel suits and golden sashes.
And what is up with those sashes, anyway?
Horrible!
Our prince didn’t want anything to do with that
romantic poppycock. He wanted a different sort of
life, and he learned early on he didn’t have to slay a
fire-breathing beast to get a fair maiden to kiss him.
22
The Prince
Though swaggering in with the corpse of a giant elk

or a fearsome grizzly bear slung over his shoulder for
Old Man Higgins to stuff and mount on the tavern
wall did get him his fair share of smooches from the
young ladies—and as dangerous as it might have
been at times, it was a far cry from poison apples,
stinky dwarfs, or being burnt alive by an evil fairy
queen. He’d take hunting and philandering over
that stuff any day.
Life was good; everyone loved and worshiped the
Prince and he knew it.
As he sat in his favorite tavern, his clothes cov-
ered in earth, grime, and the blood from his latest
kill, he couldn’t have been more handsome. Or at
least that was what he thought. The tavern was his
favorite haunt. It had most everything he loved in
one place. The wood walls were so crowded with the
forest beasts he’d slain Old Man Higgins laughed
and teased him as he poured him another beer.
“I’m going to have to build a larger tavern,
Prince!”
And it was true.
23
The Beast Within
The only person who killed almost as many

animals as the Prince was his good friend Gaston,
who slammed a handful of coins onto the bar, star-
tling poor Higgins before he could finish pouring
the new round of drinks. “Drinks are on me tonight,
Higgins! In celebration of the Prince’s engagement!”
The men cheered and the barmaids wilted into
tears, their bosoms heaving heavy sighs of disap-
pointment. Gaston seemed to enjoy the spectacle as
much as the Prince did.
“She is the most beautiful girl in the village!
You’re a lucky man, Prince! I’d be jealous if you
weren’t my best friend!”
That he was. Gaston’s best friend. The Beast had
looked in on Gaston several times with the sister
witches’ enchanted mirror, just to see how he’d been
doing since the Prince “moved to another king-
dom,” and Gaston seemed to have taken the Prince’s
place.
They had always been alike, Gaston and the
Prince, and the Prince supposed that was why
they had enjoyed each other’s company so well. Or
24
The Prince
perhaps he had felt it was better to keep his compe-

tition close at hand. But then again, he wondered if
that was how he’d actually seen it then.
As far as the Beast could surmise through the
enchanted mirror, his window onto the outside
world, Gaston was considered to be the most hand-
some man in the country. The ladies seemed to
swoon every time he passed them by.
The Beast couldn’t help laughing sometimes
while listening to Gaston go on about himself,
bragging about his cleft chin, showing off his hairy
chest, and singing his own praises up and down the
town’s main thoroughfares.
However, there was another side to the Prince’s
old friend, a vindictive cruelty about him the
Beast found hard to watch because it reminded
him so much of himself—before this horrible
transformation!
Yes, they were very much alike, Gaston and the
Prince, and that is what brought them together.
From his dealings with the enchanted mirror,
the Beast learned that Gaston was dangerously
25
The Beast Within
obsessed with a kooky little inventor’s daughter,

who was famed to be the prettiest girl in town.
He’d never seen the girl, but he’d heard people say
she was rather odd. He wished he could get a proper
look at her, but her face was always hidden behind a
book or she was turning the other way when Gaston
tried to talk with her. It was rather shameful, how
he chased her about no matter how much she pro-
tested. The Beast had never known Gaston to be so
obsessed with a girl. He was surprised at him, really,
for wanting to marry an inventor’s daughter. This
inventor’s daughter in particular. She may have had
a reputation for being pretty, but she was suppos-
edly equally headstrong. Her father was rumored to
be bordering on insanity, and she didn’t have a drop
of royalty in her bloodline.
But, then, neither did Gaston. . . .
What were problems for the Prince would not be
such conflicts for his friend.
Gaston had been first to let the Prince know his
fiancée, Circe, was from a poor farming family, in an
attempt to prevent the Prince from shaming himself
26
The Prince
by marrying someone so low. Of course he couldn’t

marry her, no matter how beautiful she was. How
could his subjects take the daughter of a pig farmer
seriously as their queen? The servants wouldn’t
respect her, and she wouldn’t know how to act in
diplomatic situations. No, it would be a disaster. It
would be unfair to his subjects and to her, and most
of all to him. He didn’t need anyone to tell him it
was a poor idea; he came to the conclusion himself
the moment he discovered her station in life.
Then the decision was made.
He couldn’t marry the girl.
The Prince sent for his fiancée the next day.
Circe looked beautiful when she stepped out of the
carriage to meet him. Her light-blond hair and
shimmering silver dress glistened under the morn-
ing sun as she stood in his rose garden. It was hard
to believe she was a pig farmer’s daughter. Perhaps
Gaston was mistaken. Where would a girl on a pig
farm get a dress like that? Ah. Gaston was playing
his tricks again. Trying to put him off so he could
have Circe for himself. That wicked butt-chinned
27
The Beast Within
brute. He would have words with him about this

soon enough. But in the meantime he had to make
amends with his beautiful Circe. Of course she had
no idea he had intended to break things off, but he
felt his heart had betrayed her.
“My darling, Circe, you look beautiful.”
She looked up at him with her pale blue eyes,
slightly blushing, but it did not diminish the light
smattering of freckles across her button nose.
Adorable.
She was simply that, adorable. How could he
have thought she was the daughter of a pig farmer?
He couldn’t fathom her mucking about with those
dirty, horrible creatures.
Think of it! Circe feeding pigs! It was laughable
when he saw her sparkling like a dew-dropped rose,
like the princess she was about to become. He would
make Gaston pay for causing him to doubt her.
“Come, my love, to the morning room. I have
arranged something special just for you.”
He didn’t mention Gaston’s trick to Circe; it
was too nasty to repeat. There was no need to cause
28
The Prince
ill will between the two. Gaston would, after all, be

his best man at the wedding. Yes, he was brutish,
ill-tempered, and conniving, but he was still his
closest companion. And he wanted his best friend to
stand beside him at his wedding.
And there was something else. It would please
the Prince to know Gaston would be seething with
envy as he stood there, forced to watch the wed-
ding proceedings, knowing his attempts to break
the Prince’s faith in Circe had failed and he could
not have her for himself. Yes, that would be very
satisfying. Perhaps after the wedding he should send
Gaston away on some errand for the kingdom—
something distasteful and below his rank, to show
him not to interfere again.
Who could blame Gaston, really, for trying to
spirit Circe away from him? She was the prettiest
girl they’d ever seen, and Gaston was only giving
in to her beauty and letting it taint his better judg-
ment. It was quite funny when you thought about
it—Gaston, the prince of Buttchinland, trying to
take his Circe away! Who would have a commoner,
29
The Beast Within
no matter how close a royal family friend he might

be, when she could have the prince who would one
day be king of these lands?
The Prince decided to laugh the entire thing
off and focus on what he loved: hunting, drinking,
spending the taxes collected from his estates, and
charming the ladies.
Oh yes, and there was Circe, but he loved her the
way one would love his castle, or his stable stocked
with the finest horses. She was the most beautiful
creature, and he treasured her for how her beauty
would reflect on him and his kingdom. Sensible, he
thought, and he felt beyond reproach.
The wedding plans continued even though
Gaston kept on about Circe’s family. Not a day or
night went by that he didn’t mention it.
“You’re starting to bore me, Gaston, honestly!
Going on about this pig farm thing as if it were
actually true. Why don’t you give up already?”
Gaston wouldn’t let the issue alone.
“Come with me, Prince, I will show you!”
So they rode several miles, until they reached
30
The Prince
the little farmhouse, which was tucked away beyond

the woods on an uncommon path.
There was his Circe. She was standing in the pen
feeding the pigs, the bottom of her simple white
dress caked with mud. Her hair seemed dull, and
her cheeks were flushed with hard work. She must
have sensed them looking at her, for she glanced up
and noticed the expression of disgust on the Prince’s
face, leaving her stricken with horror and shame.
She dropped her pail and stood on the spot, look-
ing at the two men.
She said nothing.
“Come out here, girl! Is that how you greet your
guests?” Gaston barked cockily.
Her eyes widened as if she was coming out of a
haze.
“Of course,” she said meekly.
Then she walked out of the pen and approached
the men, looking up at them, still astride their
horses.
“Hello, my love, what brings you here?” she
asked.
31
The Beast Within
The Prince scoffed. “What brings me indeed?

Why didn’t you tell me your father was a mere pig
farmer?”
Circe looked desperate and confused, hardly able
to answer.
“What do you mean, my dearest?”
The Prince was enraged. “Do not play coy with
me, madam! How dare you keep such a thing from
me! How could you lie to me in such a manner?”
Circe crumpled in tears. “You never asked about
my parents! I never lied to you! Why should it
matter? We love each other! And love conquers all.”
“Love you? Seriously? Look at yourself—covered
in muck! How could I possibly love you?”
He spat on the ground and then turned his
attentions to his friend. “Come on, Gaston, let’s
leave this stinking place. I have nothing further to
say to this filthy farm girl.”
And the two men rode off, leaving the beautiful
maiden covered in mud and a cloud of dust kicked
up by their wild horses.
32
Chapter IV
T he Witches’
Little Sister
The Prince sat alone in his study, sipping a drink

by the fireplace. Images of Circe haunted him. They
flashed between the bewitching young beautiful
woman he wanted to marry and the sickening scene
he’d witnessed earlier that day.
He almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
But he could not soften to her, not after she had
tried to trap him into marriage by weaving such
horrid lies. As he sat there, sinister shadows danced
on the walls. These were created by the firelight
and the giant antlers mounted on the wall above
his chair. He remembered the day he’d killed the
33
The Beast Within
largest trophy—the great elk. He was almost sad

the day he finally took him down. He’d been track-
ing the beast for years. But when he’d killed him,
he felt as if he’d lost an old friend. He sipped some
more, remembering that hallowed day. Just then the
porter poked his head into the room.
“Prince, sir, Miss Circe is here to see you.”
The Prince sighed with annoyance. “I’ve told
you, numerous times now, not to admit her! Send
her away!” And he turned back to his musings.
The porter didn’t leave. He stuttered his reply.
“I haven’t let—let—let her in, my—my lord, she
is standing out . . . side, but refuses to—to—to go,
she says she will not leave until you speak with her.”
“Very well, then.”
Putting his drink on the little wooden side table
next to his chair, he stood with a heavy sigh and
made his way toward the grand entrance.
There stood Circe, a pathetic little creature,
looking downright diminutive in the large gaping
arched doorway. Her eyes were sad, swollen and red
from crying. She looked nothing like the ravishing
34
The Witches’ Little Sister
beauty that had once stood in his rose garden all

golden, silver, and light. If seeing her mucking
around in the mud that day hadn’t vanquished that
memory from his mind, then this encounter most
surely would.
He’d never again be tempted by memories of her
beauty, trying to fool him into feeling sorry for the
lying little creature! She had a ratty shawl around
her shoulders that made her look like an old beg-
gar woman. The light and shadow on her face did
make her look old and haggard. Had he not known
it was her, he would have thought her an old beggar
woman indeed.
She spoke with a small voice. She sounded like
a little crow—her voice scratchy and hoarse from
long crying.
“My love, please, I can’t believe you would treat
me so poorly. Surely you didn’t mean the things you
said to me earlier today.”
She broke down sobbing, her tearstained and
swollen face buried in her small white hands.
How could he ever have thought her adorable?
35
The Beast Within
“I cannot marry you, Circe. You must have

known that from the start. I’m guessing that is why
you tried to keep your parents a secret.”
“But I didn’t know, my love! My darling, please
take this rose and remember the days you still loved
me. Won’t you please let me come inside, away from
this cold? Do you hate me so much?”
“Your beauty, which so captured my heart in
my very garden, will forever be tarnished by the
grotesque scene I witnessed today, and by this shame-
ful display.”
When Circe took her hands from her face, her
eyes were no longer swollen and her face was not
splotched and red from long hours of crying. Her
skin was pale and glowing as if she were infused
with moonlight—and her hair was bright and shim-
mering with little silver adornments, like sparkling
bits of stardust were captured in it. Her dress was
opalescent silver, and everything about her seemed
to glow with enchantment, but nothing shined
brighter than her pale blue eyes. She had never
looked so beautiful.
36
“I’ll never be quite as beautiful again in your

eyes because you think I’m the daughter of a pig
farmer?”
Then he heard their voices, ascending from the
darkness, like a chorus of harpies swooping up from
Hell.
“Farmer’s daughter?”
“Our little sister?”
“Why, she is of royal blood. She is cousin of the
old king.”
He couldn’t see who was speaking; he only heard
three distinct voices coming from the darkness.
Something about the voices chilled him. He wanted
nothing more than to slam the door and hide within
the walls of his castle, but he stood his ground.
“Is this true, Circe?” he asked.
“Yes, Prince, it is. My sisters and I come from a
long line of royalty.”
“I don’t understand!”
Circe’s sisters stepped into the light and stood
behind her. Their grotesquerie made Circe’s beauty
even more pronounced.
37
The Beast Within
It was startling, really.

It wasn’t that they were ugly, the sisters; it was
just that everything about them was so striking,
and in such contrast to their other features. Each
feature on its own could have been beautiful. Their
large eyes, for example, might have looked stunning
on another woman. Their hair, somehow it was too
black, like one could become lost in the depth of
the darkness, and the contrast of their bloodred lips
against their parchment-white skin was too shock-
ing. They didn’t seem real, these sisters. None of
this did, because all of it was absurd. He felt as if he
must be dreaming, caught in a nightmare. He was
entranced by her transfiguration, and it made him
forget his earlier vow never again to think of her.
He was enamored once more.
“Circe! This is wonderful! All is well, you’re of
royal descent, we can be married!”
“We had to be sure you really loved her,” said
Lucinda, her eyes narrowing.
“Yes, sure,” said Martha.
“We wouldn’t just . . .”
38
“Let our little sister marry a . . .”

“Monster!” they shouted accusingly in unison.
“Monster? How dare you!” the Prince snapped.
The sisters laughed.
“That is what we see—”
“A monster.”
“Oh, others may find you handsome enough—”
“But you have a cruel heart!”
“And that is what we see, the ugliness of your
soul.”
“Soon all will see you for the cruel beast
you are!”
“Sisters, please! Let me speak! He is mine, after
all!” said Circe, trying to calm her sisters. “It is my
right to deliver the comeuppance.”
“There is no need for this,” the Prince said,
finally showing his fear—whether it be of the sisters
or of losing the beautiful vision before him. “We can
be married now. I’ve never seen a woman as beauti-
ful as you. There’s nothing to stand in our way. I
must have you as my wife!”
“Your wife? Never! I see now you only loved
39
The Beast Within
my beauty. I will ensure no woman will ever

want you no matter how you try to charm her! Not
as long as you remain as you are—tainted by vain
cruelty.”
The sisters’ laugh could be heard clear across the
kingdom on that night. It was so piercing it sent
hundreds of birds into flight and frightened the
entire population of the kingdom, even Gaston—
but Circe continued with her curse while Gaston
and the others wondered what ominous happenings
might be afoot.
“Your ugly deeds will mar that handsome face of
yours, and soon, as my sisters said, everyone will see
you as the beast you are.”
She then turned to Lucinda, who handed her a
single rose from the Prince’s garden. “And since you
would not take this token of love from the woman
you professed to cherish, let it then be a symbol of
your doom!”
“Your doom!” Martha said, laughing while she
clapped her little white hands and hopped in her
tiny boots with absolute glee.
40
“Your doom!” joined Ruby and Lucinda, also

jumping up and down, making the scene even more
confusing and macabre.
“Sisters!” Circe pleaded. “I am not finished!”
She continued, “As the rose petals fall, so shall
the years pass until your twenty-first birthday. If
you have not found love—true love, both given and
received—by that day, then you shall remain the
horrifying creature you’ll become.”
The Prince squinted his eyes and cocked his
head, trying to comprehend the meaning of this
riddle.
“Oh, he’ll become the beast! He will!”
“No doubt! He’ll never change his wicked ways!”
The sisters were again clapping and jumping in
vindictive delight. Their laugh seemed to feed upon
itself. The more they laughed, the louder it became,
and the more insane the sisters seemed to be. Circe
had to take them in hand once again.
“Sisters, stop! He has to know the terms of the
curse or it will not be binding.”
The sisters’ laughter ceased at once, and
41
The Beast Within
they became unnervingly quiet, twitching with

discomfort.
“Mustn’t ruin his punishment!”
“No, mustn’t do that!”
Circe, hearing her sisters’ chatter again, gave
them a reproachful look, silencing them immediately.
“Thank you, Sisters. Now, Prince. Do you
understand the terms of the curse?” The Prince
could only look at the women in wonder and horror.
“He’s struck dumb, little sister!” cackled
Lucinda.
“Shhh,” reminded Ruby as Circe continued.
“Do you understand the terms?” she asked him
again.
“That I’m supposed to turn into some sort of
beast if I do not change my ways?” the Prince said,
trying to repress a smile.
Circe nodded.
Now it was time for the Prince to laugh.
“Poppycock! What sort of trickery is this? I’m
to believe you’ve cursed me? Am I supposed to
become so frightened that I fool myself into making
42
something dreadful happen? I won’t fall for it,

ladies! If indeed you can be called ladies, royal blood
or not!”
Circe’s face hardened. The Prince had never seen
her like this—so angry, so stern and cold.
“Your castle and its grounds shall also be cursed,
then, and everyone within will be forced to share
your burden. Nothing but horrors will surround
you, from when you look into a mirror to when you
sit in your beloved rose garden.”
Lucinda added, “And soon those horrors will be
your only scenery.”
“Yes, I see you stuck cowering within doors.”
“Yes, fearful of leaving your own bedchamber!”
“Yes, yes! Too frightened to show your ugly face
to the world outside your castle walls!”
“I see your servants seething with hate, watch-
ing your every move from distant shadows, sneaking
up on you in the night, just looking at the creature
you’ve become.”
“And I see you,” Lucinda said, “wondering if
they’ll kill you to free themselves from the curse!”
43
The Beast Within
“Enough! That is but one path he may take!

There is one last thing he needs before we go.” Circe
looked to Ruby.
“The mirror, please, Ruby.”
Lucinda’s face contorted even more freakishly
than imaginable. “Circe, no! Not the mirror.”
“It’s our mirror!”
“Not yours to give away!”
“No no no!”
“This is my curse, Sisters, and on my terms. I say
he gets the mirror!
“My darling,” Circe continued, “this enchanted
mirror will let you see into the outside world. All
you need to do is ask the mirror and it will show you
what you want to see.”
“I don’t like you giving away our treasures,
Circe! That was a gift from a very famous maker
of mirrors. It’s quite priceless and very old. It’s a
mirror of legends! It was given to us before you were
even born.”
“And shall I remind you how you came to
possess it?” asked Circe, silencing her sisters.
44
“Let’s not bore the Prince with our family his-

tory, Circe,” said Martha. “He can have the mirror,
not only to see the outside world, but to see the
hideous creature he’s bound to become.”
“Oh yes! Let him try to break the maidens’ hearts
after he’s turned into the beast!” screamed Ruby,
with Lucinda and Martha chiming in, “Let him try,
let him try, to break their hearts and make them
cry!” They were spinning in circles like toy tops,
their dresses blossoming about them like mutant
flowers in a strange garden, while they chanted their
incessant mockery.
“Let him try! Let him try! To break their hearts
and make them cry!”
Circe was growing impatient, and the Prince
looked as if he was straddling amusement and fear.
“Sisters! Please stop, I beg you!” Circe snapped.
“I’m supposed to take this seriously? Any of
this? Really, Circe! Do you think I’m an idiot like
your cackling sisters here?”
Before the Prince could say any more, he found
himself pressed firmly on the stone wall behind
45
The Beast Within
him, Circe’s hand placed tightly around his throat,

and her own voice sounding like a giant serpent’s.
“Never speak ill of my sisters again! And yes,
you’d better take everything I’ve said seriously, and
I suggest you commit it to memory, because your
life depends on it. The curse is in your hands now.
Choose the right path, Prince, change your ways,
and you shall be redeemed. Chose cruelty and vanity
and you will suffer indeed!”
She released him. He was utterly gobsmacked.
Her face was very close to his and full of hate. He
felt frightened, really frightened, perhaps for the
first time in his young life.
“Do you understand?” she asked again, vehe-
mently, and all he could mutter was “Yes.”
“Come, Sisters, let’s leave him, then. He will
choose his own path from here.”
So he did.
46
Chapter V
The Portrait in
the West Wing
In the first few months there was no sign of a curse:

no taunting sisters, no beastly visage, and no villain-
ous servants plotting his death. The idea was laugh-
able, really. His loyal servants growing to hate him?
Ludicrous! Imagine his beloved Cogsworth or Mrs.
Potts wishing for his death—utterly inconceivable!
It was pure claptrap!
Nothing of which the sisters spoke came true,
and he saw no reason to believe it would. As a result,
he did not think he needed to repent, change his
ways, or take anything those insane women had to
say seriously at all.
Life went on and it was good—as good as it had
47
The Beast Within
always been, with Gaston at his side, money in his

pockets, and women to fawn over him. What more
could he ask for?
But as happy as he was, he couldn’t completely
shake the fear that perhaps Circe and her sisters were
right. He noticed little changes in his appearance—
small things that made him feel his mind might
have been betraying him and he was somehow fall-
ing for the sisters’ ruse.
He had to constantly—obsessively—remind
himself that there was no curse. There were only his
fears and the sisters’ lies, and he wasn’t about to let
either get the better of him.
He was in his bedroom readying himself for a
hunting trip with Gaston when the porter came in
to let him know his friend had arrived.
“Send him up, then. Unless he wants to take
breakfast in the observatory while I finish getting
ready.”
The Prince was in fine spirits and found himself
feeling better than he had in a long time. But he
couldn’t for the life of him remember the porter’s
48
The Portrait in the West Wing
name. A bit concerning, but one of the advantages

of being a prince is that no one questions you. So if
others were noticing a change in the Prince, they
didn’t mention it.
“Are my things packed? Is everything ready for
our stalking expedition?” he asked the porter.
“Indeed, my liege, it’s all been loaded. If there’s
nothing else that you require, then I shall see to the
other gentleman’s things.”
The Prince had to laugh. Gaston a gentleman?
Hardly! The porter was too young to remember
when Gaston and the Prince had been boys. Some of
the older staff would remember. Mrs. Potts would
remember, to be sure. She had often recounted old
stories about the boys as children, laughing at the
memory of them running to the kitchen and plead-
ing with her for sweets after their grand adventures,
both of them covered in mud, tracking it through-
out the castle, like little boys love to do, making a
maid trail after them—a maid who muttered curses
under her breath the entire time.
Curses.
49
The Beast Within
Put them out of your mind. Remember something else.

Mrs. Potts.
She loved telling the story of how the boys had
convinced themselves the castle grounds had been
plagued by an evil dragon. On more than one occa-
sion, the boys went off adventuring all day and were
gone well into the night, making everyone sick with
worry over what might have befallen them—and the
two of them just waltzed right in as happy and gay
as could be, without a care in the world, wondering
what the fuss was all about.
That was how those boys had been. The Prince
wondered how much they’d actually changed,
though Mrs. Potts reminded him at every opportu-
nity that both he and Gaston had changed a great
deal. She often said she didn’t see much of the little
boys she once adored in either of them.
Changed.
He had changed, hadn’t he? And not in the
way Mrs. Potts feared. In other ways. She still
loved them, though. She couldn’t help herself. She
probably even thought of Gaston as a gentleman.
50
She always treated him as such. She saw the best

in everyone when she could, and encouraged their
friendship when they were young, even though he
was the master of the bar’s son.
“It shouldn’t matter who his father is, young
master. He is your friend and has proven to be a very
good one at that.” He remembered feeling terrible
for letting a thing like status make him reconsider a
friendship with Gaston. None of that mattered, not
now. Gaston had his own lands and people to work
them—the Prince had seen to that—and that life
when they were so young, when Gaston lived with
his father in the stable quarters, it all seemed so far
away and long ago.
Gaston’s very voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Prince! Why are you standing there daydream-
ing when you should be readying yourself? We have
a long journey ahead of us.”
“I was remembering when we were young,
Gaston. Recalling our earlier adventures. Do you
remember the time you saved my life in the . . .”
Gaston’s face hardened. “You know I don’t like
51
The Beast Within
to talk about that, Prince! Must you always remind

me that I am not your equal?”
“That wasn’t my aim, dear friend.”
“Nevertheless, it is the result.”
The Prince felt scolded.
Gaston seemed to be lost in his own thoughts
now, musing over the large portrait of the Prince
hanging over the fireplace. “When did you sit for
this portrait? How long ago was it? Five years?”
“It was finished only a quarter of a year ago. You
remember, it was done by that wildly eccentric painter.
He called himself the Maestro, remember? He seemed
to live in another world altogether with his pretty
speeches about preserving our youth and making time
stand still through the magic of depiction.”
“I do! Yes, he was very . . . uh, interesting.”
“Interesting? You wanted to toss him out the
nearest window, if I recall!”
The two laughed but Gaston seemed to be
preoccupied with thoughts other than those about
strange painters and their proclamations of preserv-
ing a moment in time.
52
“I suppose there is something to his insane ram-

blings, though. I do seem much changed since this
was painted. Look, around the eyes in the painting.
There is no sign of lines, but if you see here, it does
look as though I’ve aged more than five years.”
“You sound like a woman, Prince, worrying
about lines around the eyes! Next you’ll be wonder-
ing what color petticoat looks best with a blue dress.
Shall I inquire with your fairy godmother?”
The Prince laughed, but it wasn’t genuine.
Gaston continued, “We have better things to do
than waste the day clucking away like a couple of
hens. Meet me in the observatory for breakfast when
you’re finished getting ready.”
“Yes, feel free to start without me. I’m sure Mrs.
Potts is in a tizzy that it’s taken us this long to get
down there.”
The portrait was still bothering him. How had
his eyes become so lined in just a few months? Was
it possible they had looked like this at the time and
the painter wished to compliment him by making
him seem younger? No, the Maestro was very
53
The Beast Within
specific about preserving that moment in time.

Making it as pure and realistic as possible. Freezing
a moment that could never be diminished or altered,
preserving it for the generations so they might
evoke something of his memory once he was long
gone. So the man had said, almost word for word.
It seemed contrary to his annoying speeches and
proclamations for him to have painted the Prince
any differently than he had appeared at the time.
So Gaston was right? Had he aged five years in just
over three months? Or was Gaston simply being
mean-spirited because he’d reminded him of when
they were young?
Could it be . . . ? No. But what if . . . what if
Circe’s curse was real?
Then he remembered the sisters’ mirror. He had
tucked it away the night the fiendish harpies gave
it to him, and hadn’t given it a second thought
since. Their words started to ring in his ears and he
couldn’t take his mind off the hellish thing. It will
show you as the beast you are sure to become! He walked
over to the mantel. Sitting on top was a voluminous
54
tortoiseshell cat with narrowed yellow eyes lined in

black. She looked down on him, scrutinizing him
as he looked for the button that opened the secret
compartment within the fireplace mantel. The fire-
less pit was flanked by two griffons with ruby-red
eyes that sparkled in the morning light.
He pressed one of the eyes inward, and it
recessed into the griffon’s skull. Each griffon had a
crest on its chest; the crest on the griffon to the right
popped out, revealing the compartment containing
the mirror.
The Prince just stood there looking at it. The
mirror had landed facedown when he tossed it in.
He stared at its back side. It was seemingly harm-
less, a simple silver hand mirror almost entirely
black now from tarnish. He reached in, grabbing the
mirror by its handle. It was cold in his hand, and he
fancied he could feel the evil of the sisters penetrat-
ing him by his simply touching it.
Fancy.
He held it to his chest for a moment, not want-
ing to look at himself, wondering if this was folly.
55
The Beast Within
He was letting the sisters get to him. He had

promised himself he wouldn’t surrender to fears and
superstitions. Yet he found himself wanting to look
into the mirror. And he was worried about what he
might see.
“Enough of this foolishness!” He gathered his
courage, lifted the mirror, and looked into it
unflinchingly, determined to face his fears. At first
glance he didn’t seem much changed. His heart felt
lighter and he indeed felt foolish for letting the
sisters’ threats invade his thoughts.
“Look closer, Prince.” He dropped the mirror
and was afraid he had broken it. Though it might
have been a blessing if he had. He was sure it was
Lucinda’s voice he’d heard taunting from the black
ether, or wherever she deigned to dwell. It was Hell
itself for all he knew. Picking up the mirror with
a shaking hand, he took a second look. This time
he did see deep lines around his eyes. Gaston was
right: he looked a good five years older after just
a few months! The lines made his face look cruel.
Heartless. All the things Circe said he was.
56
Impossible.
His heart started to pound like thunder. It was
pounding so violently that he felt as if it would
burst within his chest.
Then came the laughter. It surrounded him,
cacophonous. The wicked cackling seemed to be
coming from lands unseen; their voices, their vin-
dictive words entrapped him, causing his anxieties
to overwhelm him. His vision became narrowed,
and soon all he saw were the cat’s yellow eyes staring
at him from the mantel. Then everything closed in
on him and his world became black.
Nothingness.
He was alone in the darkness with only the
sisters’ laughter and his own dread to keep him
company.
He woke what seemed like some days later, feel-
ing as if he’d been beaten by a gang of blackguards.
His entire body ached and he could barely move.
The sisters had ensured his misery and compounded
it with their laughter and taunting, leaving him ill
and suffering.
57
The Beast Within
“You’re awake, sir!” said Cogsworth from the

corner chair, where he had been sitting. “We were
very worried about you, sir.”
“What happened?” The Prince’s head was still
slightly befogged and he couldn’t quite get his
bearings.
“Well, it seems, sir, you were very ill, suffering
from a severe fever. When you hadn’t come down to
breakfast, I came up to find you lying on the floor.”
“Where’s the mirror?”
“The mirror, sir? Oh yes, I put it in your dress-
ing stand.”
The Prince’s panic subsided.
“Was it all a dream, then? All fancy brought on
by worry or illness?”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir. But you were
rather ill. We’re all very much relieved to hear you
are out of the woods, as they say.”
Cogsworth was putting on a brave face, as he
always did, but the Prince could tell he had been
worried. He looked tired, worn, and uncustomarily
rumpled. He was usually fastidious. It was a credit
58
to his loyalty that it seemed he had been at the

Prince’s side during his entire illness.
“Thank you, Cogsworth. You’re a good man.”
“Thank you, sir. It was nothing.”
Before Cogsworth could be embarrassed any
further, the porter poked in his head sheepishly to
say, “Excuse me, sir, it’s just that Mrs. Potts wants
Cogsworth down in the kitchens.”
“Here now, I won’t have Mrs. Potts telling me
where I am needed!” grumbled Cogsworth.
“No, she’s right, you look like you could use a
good cup of tea. I’m fine. Go to the kitchens before
she waddles her way up here, getting angrier with
each flight of stairs she has to take to reach us.”
Cogsworth laughed at the thought of it. “Perhaps
you’re right, sir.” He left the room, taking the por-
ter along with him.
The Prince felt incredibly foolish for thinking
he had actually been cursed. As he looked out the
window, the trees were violently swaying, dancing
to a manic song only they were privy to. He longed
to be out of doors, tracking elk and talking with his
59
The Beast Within
friend about anything other than the sisters, Circe,

and curses—and as if by magic, there was a knock
at the door. It was Gaston.
“Prince! I heard you were awake! That Cogsworth
wouldn’t let anyone in your room except Dr.
Hillsworth, who just came downstairs to let us
know you were finally on your way to health.”
“Yes, Gaston, I’m feeling much better, thank
you.” Looking at Gaston, the Prince noticed he
hadn’t shaven in more than a few days, and the
Prince wondered how long he had been ill.
“Have you been here all along, good friend?”
“I have. Cogsworth gave me a room in the East
Wing, but I spent most of my time down in the
kitchens with Mrs. Potts and the others.” Gaston
seemed almost like the young boy the Prince had
befriended so many years earlier, his face haggard
with worry over his friend’s illness—and spend-
ing his time in the kitchen like the other servants’
children.
“Stay as long as you like. This was once your
home, friend, and I want you to always feel it is
60
such.” Gaston looked touched by the sentiment but

didn’t say so.
“I’m going to make myself presentable before
heading home. I’m sure things have gone to the
winds without me there for so many days.”
“Surely LeFou has it handled.” The Prince tried
not to look disappointed his friend was making
plans to leave.
“Doubtful. He’s a fool at best! Don’t fret, my
friend. I’m sure Cogsworth will be up shortly to
keep you company and help you to make plans for
the party we’re throwing the moment you’re well
enough.”
“Party?” the Prince asked.
Gaston gave one of his magic smiles, the kind
that always ensured he would get his way. “Yes,
a party, my friend, one that will be remembered
throughout the ages!”
61
Chapter VI
Gaston’s Grand I dea
Gaston’s plan went directly into action only a few

short weeks after the Prince’s recovery. The entire
staff was behind it and thought it was exactly the
thing he needed.
“This is like a dream!” was heard throughout
the castle by Mrs. Potts as she amended menus and
made suggestions for little cakes to be served in the
great hall.
Cogsworth had an extra bounce in his step
but was too austere to let it be known he was
pleased to have a bustling house again to take
control of like a general at war. And that was how
he directed things, ordering the staff hither and
62
Gaston’s Grand Idea
thither to ready the castle for the grand event.

The Prince, however, had needed some persuad-
ing before he agreed to such a party. Gaston argued
it was exactly what he needed after the mishap with
Circe and his long illness.
“What better way to find the most enchanting
woman in the kingdom than to invite every fair and
available maiden so you may have your pick? And
all under the guise of a fanciful ball?”
The Prince didn’t share Gaston’s enthusiasm.
“I hate such events, Gaston. I see no need to stuff
my house with frilly ladies prancing around like
decorated birds.”
Gaston laughed.
“If we invite every fair maiden in the kingdom, I
daresay every girl will attend!” the Prince protested.
“That is my point entirely, my friend! No girl
would pass up her opportunity to shine in the
Prince’s eyes.”
“But that is what I fear! Surely there will be
far more ghastly-looking girls than beautiful! How
shall I stand it?”
63
The Beast Within
Gaston put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and

replied, “No doubt you will have to wade through
some ugly ducklings before you find your princess,
but won’t it be worth it? What of your friend who
had such a ball? Wasn’t it a great success after the
matter of the glass slipper was sorted?”
The Prince laughed. “Indeed, but you won’t
catch me marrying a housemaid like my dear friend,
no matter how beautiful she is! Not after the disas-
ter with the pig keeper.”
The talk went on like that for many days, until
the Prince decided he would have the ball after all,
and why not? Why shouldn’t he demand the atten-
dance of every available maiden in the kingdom? He
and Gaston would make a game of it, and if he did
happen to find the young woman of his dreams, then
all the better. So it was decided. He didn’t have to
think any more about it until the night of the event.
In the meantime he did his best to dodge his
servants, running about like wild geese being chased
by hounds. He forgave their franticness and even
grew to laugh when he heard Mrs. Potts padding
64
her way down the hall to ask him this or that about
what he’d like served. Meanwhile, the maids were
polishing silver in the dining room, the grooms
were readying the stables for the guests’ horses, and
the parlor maids were perched precariously on tall
ladders, dusting the chandeliers and replacing the
old candles with new. The house was a-bustle and he
wanted nothing more than to get out of doors and
do some hunting. But Gaston was out traversing
his lands, dealing with one thing or another, and
couldn’t be bothered with trivial sport.
The Prince chimed the bell for Cogsworth.
“Yes, sir, you rang?” asked Cogsworth, knowing
full well he had. The Prince always detested all this
ceremony, but he let Cogsworth have his way. He
remembered what his father—rest his soul—had
said to him many years ago. He said everyone in the
house, upstairs and down, had their places and their
roles to play. To deny a man like Cogsworth his
duty and remove him from his place was like taking
away his sense of self and dignity. Cogsworth had
treated him well for many years; he couldn’t shatter
65
The Beast Within
the man’s self-worth by treating him like family,

even though that was how he had grown to think of
him. It was an unspoken sentiment between them.
The Prince believed Cogsworth thought the
same of him but was too austere to say so.
“Yes, Cogsworth, I would like you to arrange for
the Maestro as soon as manageable. I mean to have
another portrait.”
Cogsworth rarely let his expression betray him.
“Yes, sir, I shall send for him.”
“What is it, Cogsworth? Don’t you approve?”
It seemed he thought about it for a moment
before answering, “It isn’t my place to say so, sir,
but if it was, I would mention how ‘interesting’ the
household becomes when he visits.”
The Prince had to laugh. He had thought
Cogsworth was going to comment on how recently
he’d had a portrait done.
“Indeed. He is a bit of a character, isn’t he? He
treats the staff well, though, doesn’t he? You don’t
have a complaint on that account, do you?”
“Oh no, sir, it isn’t that. A gentleman such
66
as the Maestro isn’t the least bit challenging in

that regard. No, sir, he’s just an eccentric fellow,
isn’t he?”
“Yes he is, and very keen on himself and the
impact his art makes on the world, I would say.
Enough of that. I am sure you are very busy with all
the details for tomorrow’s event. I trust everything
is in hand?”
Cogsworth looked positively proud, almost
beaming. “Oh yes, everything is running like clock-
work, sir. It’s going to be a perfect evening.”
“And Gaston, have you any word from him? He
all but insisted I have this party and then took off
to places unknown, leaving me here to dawdle my
time away.”
Cogsworth smirked. “Yes, sir, he sent word
this morning ensuring he would be back tomorrow
morning. In the meantime, I’ve asked the game-
keeper to ready for a day of stalking. I thought with
the house in such a state you would be eager to get
out of doors.”
“Brilliant idea, Cogsworth! Thank you!”
67
The Beast Within
On the following evening the castle was aglow

with gold flickering light, which was dancing in the
hedge maze, making the animal topiaries seem to
come to life. Everyone would be arriving within the
hour, but the Prince was finding a moment of quiet
in one of his favorite places on the castle grounds.
The tranquility was shattered by Gaston’s boom-
ing voice calling for him from the arched entryway
covered in tiny pink blossoming roses.
“Are you in this damnable maze again, Prince?”
The Prince didn’t answer his friend. He just sat
there wondering what the night would bring. He
had also been thinking of Circe and wondering if
it was possible ever to find another girl who loved
him as much as she had. There had been times he
thought Circe was a dream and her sisters some sort
of nightmare he had conjured in his own fevered
imagination. He’d lost so much time already, it
didn’t seem reasonable to waste much more with
thoughts of Circe, her harpy sisters, or curses.
“Your guests will be arriving any moment,”
Gaston shouted, “and though he wouldn’t admit it,
68
I think Cogsworth will blow a gasket if you’re not

there to greet them as they enter the great hall!”
The Prince sighed. “I’ll be right there.”
Gaston turned the corner, seeing his friend
sitting near a towering topiary of a winged lion.
“What’s the matter? I thought this would liven
your spirits! Every girl in three kingdoms is said to
attend! It’s going to be magnificent!”
The Prince stood, straightening his velvet frock
coat, and said, “Yes, it will be. Let’s not keep the
girls waiting.”
The girls filed in by the hundreds. So many
of them! He didn’t know there could be so many
in all the world. All of them were decked out for
the occasion. There were stunning brunettes with
dark haunting eyes, pale and lovely blondes with
perfect ringlets, striking redheads with jade-colored
eyes, and everything in between. They all paraded
past him, some hiding behind their fans and gig-
gling, while others tried not to look the least bit
interested in whether he glanced in their direction.
Some seemed too nervous to keep from trembling,
69
The Beast Within
sometimes so violently they lost composure alto-

gether and spilled their drinks.
There was one girl with auburn hair he didn’t
manage to see properly. She seemed always to have
her back turned. She must have been very beauti-
ful, because he caught the dirty glances she received
from the other ladies as they passed her, and quite
unlike the others, she didn’t travel in a swarm of
girls. She stood off—apart from most everyone—
seeming not the least bit interested in the idle
chatter of the fairer sex.
“Gaston, who is that girl? The one in the blue dress

I saw you talking with earlier? What’s her name?”
Gaston pretended he didn’t recall, annoying the
Prince. “You know very well to whom I’m referring,
man! Bring her over here and introduce me.”
“You wouldn’t be interested in her, trust me!”
The Prince raised an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t I? And why is that, my good friend?”
Gaston lowered his voice so those nearby
wouldn’t hear. “She’s the daughter of Cuckoo! Oh,
70
she’s lovely, yes, but her father is the laughingstock

of the village! He’s harmless enough, but fancies
himself a great inventor! He’s always building
contraptions that clank, rattle, and explode! She
isn’t the sort you’d like to get mixed up with, good
friend.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but nevertheless, I would
like to meet her.”
“I daresay you would find her very tedious with
her endless talk of literature, fairy tales, and poetry.”
“You seem to know quite a bit about her,
Gaston,” the Prince said with a comical, knowing nod.
“I fear I do! In the few moments we spoke just
now, she prattled on of nothing else. No, dear
friend, we need to find you a proper lady. A princess!
Someone like the princess Morningstar over there.
Now, she is a delight! No talk of books from her!
I bet she’s never read even a single book or had a
thought of her own!”
The Prince thought that was a very good quality
in a woman. He could do enough thinking for both
himself and his future wife.
71
The Beast Within
“Yes, bring over the princess Morningstar. I’d

very much like to meet her.”
Princess Tulip Morningstar had long golden
locks, with a milk-and-honey complexion and light
sky-blue eyes. She looked like a doll draped in dia-
monds and pink silks.
She was remarkably beautiful—radiant, in fact.
Everything about her sparkled, with one exception:
her personality. But that didn’t bother the Prince.
He had enough personality for both of them. It
wouldn’t do to have a wife who took attention away
from him.
Morningstar had a charming little habit of gig-
gling when she didn’t have something to contribute
on a subject, which was most of the time. This made
him feel like the best of tutors. Honestly, he could
talk about anything and her attentions were never
diverted from him; she just giggled.
He had already decided he was going to marry
her, and judging by the sulky looks on the rest of
the ladies in attendance, it must have been quite
clear.
72
Gaston looked positively pleased with himself

that he had helped arrange a perfect match for his
friend. And for his part, he saw to it that the other
ladies didn’t go without a dance partner for very
long.
It seemed to the Prince that Gaston must have
danced with every girl there that evening—all
except the inventor’s daughter, who by all accounts
didn’t seem too pleased to be there to begin with,
though he couldn’t tell by the look on her face,
because he hadn’t, in fact, had a single clear glance
at her the entire evening.
None of that mattered, though. He had his dar-
ling princess Tulip to look after now.
73
Chapter VII
The Princess and

the Portrait
The Prince was more pleased than ever the Maestro

was coming to do his portrait now that he’d made
Princess Tulip Morningstar his fiancée. It would be
an engagement portrait with the two most attractive
members of royalty anyone had beheld!
The princess went back to her father’s king-
dom after the ball and awaited the various cer-
emonies, parties, and other trappings that would
take place during their engagement, all leading up
to, of course, the most majestic of weddings. She
would, by custom, live with her family, visiting the
Prince frequently with her nanny as chaperone, and
sometimes also bringing her mother along as it
74
The Princess and the Portrait
suited her or the occasion presented itself.

This visit she would come with her nanny.
Everyone was excited that the Prince had commis-
sioned the Maestro to paint the portrait. He was the
most celebrated painter in many kingdoms and was
in great demand. Not since the renowned Master
Maker of Mirrors had there been another artist who
caused such a stir in the royal circles. Though his art
could be brutally accurate, most gentry didn’t seem
to let that color their opinion of the man.
Princess Tulip showed up on a rainy afternoon,
quite soggy. Though her hair was flat and her
clothes were sticking to her, she somehow man-
aged to look pretty, and quite worth rescuing from
the elements. The Prince kissed her sweetly on the
cheek and greeted her happily when she stepped out
of the carriage.
“Tulip, my love! How was your journey?”
A grumble came from inside the carriage, and
out popped what must have been his dearest’s nanny.
“It was intolerable, as you can see! The carriage
leaked and I would be surprised if my darling girl
75
The Beast Within
doesn’t come down with the nastiest of colds! I must

get her into a hot bath at once!”
The Prince blinked a couple of times and smiled
at the woman. She was impossibly old and lined like
a little apple doll that had been moldering away on a
windowsill. Her hair and skin were powdery white,
and though much aged, her eyes were rather spark-.
ling with life. This woman was a little firecracker.
“I am so pleased to meet you at last, Nanny,” he
said as she wrinkled her nose at him as if there were
a foul smell about the air.
“Yes, yes, very pleased to meet you, Prince, I’m
sure. But won’t you please show us to our rooms so
I can get this girl into a hot bath?” Cogsworth took
things into order.
“If you will follow me, Princess, I will happily
show you to your quarters so you may freshen your-
self after your long journey.”
And with that he took the ladies up the stairs
and out of sight.
Well, the Prince thought, this visit will be
interesting with Nanny grumbling about. Perhaps
76
he could get Mrs. Potts to divert her in the kitchens

so he could have some time alone with his princess.
He couldn’t imagine what the week would be like
with her around. His dread was squashed with the
announcement of his other guest.
The Maestro!
He came promenading in with the dandiest of
outfits—all velvet and lace in various shades of lilacs
and blackberry. He had large sad eyes set into a
slightly swollen face but seemed all the more hand-
some for it.
The Maestro looked as if he had a saucy story
to share, and the Prince wondered if it would be
unwise to seat Nanny and the Maestro at the same
table that evening for dinner. His head spun at
the thought of Nanny listening to the painter’s out-
landish stories. What he needed was Cogsworth. He
would sort it all out.
And sort it out he did. Nanny dined with Mrs.
Potts, Cogsworth, and the other staff downstairs
at Mrs. Potts’s invitation. It wasn’t custom by any
means for a guest to eat with the downstairs staff,
77
The Beast Within
but Mrs. Potts had a way with people, and by the

end of the conversation, the two were swapping
stories about the Prince and princess when they were
young, determining which of them had been more
insolent.
Meanwhile, dinner upstairs was delightfully
charming. The servants had decorated the dining
room splendidly. Rather than a large floral center-
piece, there were a number of smaller arrangements
artfully placed on the table, evoking the feel of a
garden infused with candlelight. There were many
crystal bowls with floating flowers and candles, and
the particular cut of crystal made an interesting use
of the light, causing a fanciful effect of reflection on
the walls and diners. It was quite beautiful. But not
as beautiful as his darling love, the Prince thought.
The Maestro broke the silence.
“To love in all its tantalizing and vexing forms!”
Tulip laughed behind her fan while the Maestro
stood theatrically erect with his glass raised high in
the air, waiting, it seemed, for someone to respond
to his toast. The Prince feared the Maestro might
78
stay there forever frozen in time like one of his

paintings if he didn’t say something quickly.
“Yes! To love!” he said, and quickly added, “And
to you, Maestro!”
Princess Tulip giggled again, warming the
Prince’s heart even more. He loved how sweet and
demure she was, so content to sit idly, and always
looking ravishing while doing so. He really couldn’t
have chosen a better maiden to be his bride.
“I couldn’t be more pleased to have you, Maestro!
I know you will capture the moment perfectly! We
will look back on our engagement not only with
fond memories but with . . . How was it you put it?
Oh yes, our senses will instantly be assaulted with
a profound and visceral recollection of that exact
moment in time.”
The Maestro looked pleased. “I’m honored you
remembered my words so vividly!” He then turned
his attentions to the young lady, hoping to bring
about something of her personality.
“You must be brimming with utter excitement,
Princess, are you not?” The princess’s eyes widened
79
The Beast Within
with wonder. She hardly knew what to say. “Oh

yes, I am. I am very much looking forward to the
wedding.”
“Of course you are! But I was of course speaking
of our painting! I will want to see an assortment of
outfits from each of you for my approval, and we will
need to discuss the topic of location. The rose garden
seems like an enchanting setting, I would think!
Yes, the rose garden it shall be! I have decided and
there is no changing my mind!” He continued, “It
seems every portrait that is painted with any real
feeling is a portrait of the artist, and not of the sit-
ter. I daresay you will both be magnificent!”
Tulip blinked more than a few times, trying to
understand his meaning.
“Will you be in the portrait with us, Maestro?”
she asked. Both gentlemen laughed.
Princess Tulip Morningstar didn’t know if they
were laughing at what she had said because it was
clever or dull-witted, but she decided to act as
though it had been the cleverest thing she could pos-
sibly have said, and hoped the topic would change
80
to something she needn’t partake in. The Maestro,

seeing the dread in her face, added, “Don’t fret, dear
Tulip. I am so clever that sometimes I don’t under-
stand a single word of what I am saying.”
To this the princess could reply only by say-
ing, “Oh!” and then giggling some more, which
seemed to please everyone, because they joined in
her laughter.
The next morning the magnificent trio was
found in the rose garden as the Maestro sketched
and the lovers did their best to hold their poses
without giving the master painter cause to become
cross with them.
“Prince, please! This is supposed to be the hap-
piest moment of your life and your face looks like
you’ve been eating something sour! Why do you
look so displeased? What could you possibly be
thinking of that causes one’s face to contort so?”
The Prince had in fact been thinking about the
last time he was in the rose garden, the night he
parted with Circe. It had become blurred in his
mind and he was trying hard to make sense of it
81
The Beast Within
all. Surely Circe had brought along her wicked sis-

ters and they had proclaimed he was cursed for his
misdeeds. He was certain he hadn’t imagined it,
but the curse itself, that was balderdash . . . wasn’t
it? Sometimes he couldn’t help fearing it might be
true.
The Prince was brought out of his thoughts by
Cogsworth’s voice.
“Lunch is served.”
The Maestro slammed down his drawing coals,
cracking them into tiny powdery bits. “Very well! I
think I prefer to lunch in my room! Alone!” he said,
and he stormed away, not uttering a single word
of salutation to either of the happy couple. Rather
than giggling, as we well know was Tulip’s way, she
wilted into a heap of tears at being scolded.
The Prince, it seemed, had his hands entirely full
with the fitful Maestro, his weeping Tulip, and her
sour nanny. How would the rest of the week go?
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Chapter VIII
The next day Princess Tulip Morningstar and the

Prince shared a very quiet breakfast together in the
morning room. She didn’t ask the Prince where he
had been the night before, or why he had missed din-
ner. She had been forced to dine with the Maestro by
herself and was mortified when he inquired where
the Prince might have been and she couldn’t answer.
She wanted to rail on him, honestly. Inwardly she
was seething, but Nanny warned her never to let
her anger show. It wasn’t ladylike to appear upset.
Nanny said that far too often a woman unknowingly
sabotaged herself when reproaching her husband for
his misdeeds. To stay quiet and say nothing was
83
The Beast Within
reproach itself. But to say something only gave him

cause to turn the situation onto the lady, claiming
that she was overly emotional and making more of
the situation than needed, causing him to become
angry with her.
Tulip didn’t understand this entirely, but she
did notice that Nanny didn’t follow her own advice,
and thought perhaps that was why Nanny had never
married. So she said nothing. The only sounds in the
room were those of the dishes clanking and the birds
singing outside the lovely morning room windows.
The room was made entirely of paned windows and
had the most breathtaking view of the garden. Tulip
thought of herself in the future, sitting here looking
out these windows by the hour, languishing. She
wished the Prince would say something, anything
to break this silence. She couldn’t think of what to
say; anything she said would surely sound reproach-
ful, and her tone—she wasn’t quite sure it could be
tempered.
She just sat there drinking her tea and picking
at her scone, waiting for him to say something. And
84
Chapter VIII
while waiting, she thought about that girl she’d

met at the ball. Oh, what was her name? It was
pretty, rather musical. She was probably the sort
of girl who would say something in a situation like
this—demand, in fact, to know where the Prince
had been the night before. Then again, the girl
with the pretty name was probably not the sort of
girl a prince would want to marry. She sighed. Her
thoughts were halted with the sound of his voice
at last.
“Tulip.”
Her eyes brightened when she heard him say her
name.
“Yes?” she responded, hoping he would at last
make his amends for stealing away the previous
night and leaving her alone to listen to the Maestro
talk endlessly about his art.
“We’d better not keep the Maestro waiting.”
Her heart sank.
“Of course, shall we go to the rose garden?”
“Yes, I suppose we should.”
The rest of the week went on very much
85
The Beast Within
the same. Princess Tulip Morningstar pouted and

played with the castle’s cat, the Maestro gesticu-
lated wildly while making grand speeches about art
at every opportunity, and the Prince escaped every
evening to the tavern with Gaston the moment they
were done sitting for the Maestro.
On the day of the unveiling of the new portrait,
quite a little family party had been arranged. Tulip
was in better spirits to have her mother, Queen
Morningstar, there, as well as some of her ladies to
attend her. Also in attendance was Gaston, as well
as a few other close friends of the Prince’s. King
Morningstar of course couldn’t take time away from
his duties at court but sent along lavish gifts for
both his daughter and his future son-in-law.
After they had feasted well on what was one
of Mrs. Potts’s most outstanding dinners to date,
everyone went into the great hall to partake in the
unveiling of the portrait. The great hall was filled
with paintings of the Prince’s entire family, includ-
ing portraits of him that had been painted from the
time he was a wee lad.
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Chapter VIII
“Ah! I see you’ve moved the last portrait the

Maestro did from your rooms so the happy couple
may join the others in here, where their portrait
belongs. Good choice, old man!” said Gaston as he
looked upon faces he had grown up with.
“Yes, I thought it was better suited in here.”
A rather loud clearing of the throat was heard
from the other side of the room, where the Maestro
was standing. It seemed he thought the occasion
required more ceremony and this idle chat was
debasing the situation at hand. Thank goodness
he wouldn’t have to suffer this company much
longer.
“Yes, well, without further delay, I would like to
share the latest of my greatest treasures.” With that,
Lumiere pulled the cord, which dropped the black
silk cloth that had been concealing the painting.
The room erupted into a loud clatter of sighs and
applause. Everyone seemed to be highly impressed
with the painting, and the Maestro soaked in the
praise that was being heaped upon him like an
actor on the stage would—bowing at the waist and
87
The Beast Within
placing his hand upon his heart to indicate that he

was very touched indeed.
No doubt he actually was.
The Prince couldn’t help noticing how harsh he
had been painted in the portrait. His eyes looked
cruel, piercing, almost like those of a wolf seeking
his prey, and his mouth looked thinner, more sin-
ister than it had looked before. Gaston knocked the
Prince with his elbow.
“Say something, man! They’re expecting a
speech!” he whispered in the Prince’s ear.
“I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful por-
trait of my lovely bride-to-be!” the Prince finally
uttered.
Princess Tulip blushed deeply and said, “Thank
you, my love. And I, too, couldn’t have asked for a
more handsome and dignified visage of my prospec-
tive husband.”
Dignified? Wasn’t that a word one used for
older men? Did he look dignified? His visage, as she
called it, looked harsh and worn, not one of a man
who had not yet reached his twentieth birthday, but
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one of a man well into his forties. This wouldn’t do.

Dignified!
The party was led out of the great hall and into
the music room, where a group of musicians waited
to entertain the party. By all accounts the evening
went on pleasantly enough, but the Prince couldn’t
take his mind off the painting. He looked so worn,
so ugly. Had Tulip agreed to marry him simply
because she would eventually be queen in these
lands? Did she love him at all?
He couldn’t see how.
He slipped away from the party to confirm the
Maestro’s rendition of him in his bedroom mirror.
He just stood there staring, trying to find himself
in the man staring back at him. Why hadn’t anyone
said anything? How could he have changed so much
in so little time?
Later that evening, when the Prince’s guests
and staff were all tucked into their beds, the Prince
stole out of his rooms and made his way down
the long, dark corridor. He was fearful of waking
Queen Morningstar. She would of course think he
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was sneaking into the princess’s chamber, but that

was the furthest thing from his mind now. When
he passed Tulip’s room, a creaking sound startled
him, but it was only that blasted cat pushing the
door open. He had no idea why the princess liked it
so well. There was something sinister about the way
the feline looked at him, and something eerie in her
markings, which made her look like a creature that
roamed cemeteries rather than castle grounds.
Well, if the queen did wake to find him prowl-
ing the halls, she wouldn’t believe he was on his way
to look at his painting again. He’d been sleeping
fitfully and unable to rest, his thoughts consumed
by that ghastly painting. Once he got into the great
hall and managed to light the candles, he stood
there staring at the painting again. He had indeed
changed—that had been clear when he looked at
himself in the mirror earlier that evening—but
surely the Maestro had dramatized the changes.
Just look at the difference between this painting
and the last, which had been done less than a year
earlier. There was no way a man could change so
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dramatically. He would never forgive the Maestro

for creating the unfavorable rendering. He decided
the man must pay for such an uncharitable act.
The beautiful orange-and-black cat seemed to be
in accord with the Prince, because she narrowed her
eyes in much the same way he did when he plotted
his revenge.
At the Prince’s encouragement, Cogsworth had
all visiting guests packed and stuffed into the car-
riages very early the next morning. Mrs. Potts was
disappointed not to have the opportunity to serve
the guests breakfast before the start of their travels,
so she packed a large trunk with lovely things for
them to eat on their journey. The sun was barely vis-
ible, and the tops of the trees were obscured in mist.
There was a terrible chill in the air, so it didn’t seem
unreasonable that the Prince was eager to get back
within doors, where he could warm himself.
He made his good-byes to his guests brief,
thanking them all and bidding them farewell, with
promises of love and letter-writing to Tulip. He
sighed a great relief when the carriages drove away.
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Gaston, who had been standing silently at his side,

finally spoke.
“So why was it you woke me at this ungodly
hour, my friend?”
“I need a little favor. You mentioned a particu-
larly unscrupulous fellow who can be called upon for
certain deeds.”
Gaston raised his eyebrows. “Surely there are
ways to get out of marrying the princess other than
having her killed!”
The Prince laughed.
“No, man! I mean the Maestro! I would like you
to make the arrangements for me. The incident can-
not be traced back to me, you understand?”
Gaston looked at his friend and said, “Absolutely!”
“Thank you, good friend. And once that is
sorted, what do you say to a day of hunting?”
“Sounds perfect, Prince! I would like nothing
more.”
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The Statue in
the Observatory
As Princess Tulip Morningstar’s carriage drove up

the path leading to the Prince’s castle, she thought
there was nothing more beautiful than the sight of
the castle in wintertime. Her father’s kingdom was
beautiful, yes, but it didn’t compare to the Prince’s,
especially when it was covered in pure white snow
and decorated for the winter solstice.
The entire castle was infused with light and
glowing brightly in the dark winter night. She had
high hopes for this visit and wished for nothing
more than the Prince to treat her with kindness
and love like he once had. Surely the winter holiday
would cheer his sour mood of late and bring him
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back around to the man she’d fallen in love with

that dreamy night at the ball.
“Look, Nanny, isn’t it beautiful the way the
pathway is lined with candlelight?”
Nanny smiled and said, “Yes, my dear child, it’s
very beautiful. Even more lovely than I imaged it
would be.”
Tulip sighed.
“What is it, Tulip? What’s troubling you?”
Tulip said nothing. She loved her nanny dearly
and couldn’t bring herself to ask her what she’d been
rehearsing the entire way from her father’s kingdom
to their destination.
“I think I know, dear heart, and don’t you fret.
I won’t give the Prince any reason to be upset this
visit, I promise you. Nanny will keep her thoughts
to herself this time.”
Tulip smiled and kissed her nanny on her soft
powdery cheek.
“That’s right, give your old nanny a kiss
and forget your troubles. It’s solstice, dear,
your favorite time of year, and nothing will
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The Statue in the Observatory
ruin this for you, I promise you that!”

The carriage reached the front doors of the
castle, where Lumiere was standing, waiting to open
her carriage door.
“Bonjour, Princess! Aren’t you looking as
beautiful as always? It is so lovely to see you
again!”
Tulip giggled and blushed, as she often did
when Lumiere spoke to her.
“Hello, Lumiere. I trust the Prince is attending
to more pressing matters than taking time to greet
his fiancée, who has traveled across the country
to visit him for the solstice?” grumbled Nanny.
Lumiere took it in stride.
“Indeed, Nanny! If both of you will follow me,
Christian there will take your luggage to your apart-
ments in the East Wing.”
Nanny and Tulip looked at each other in won-
der. Usually they would be shown up to their rooms
so they might refresh themselves after their long
travels. But Lumiere ushered them past many vast
and beautiful rooms until they finally arrived at a
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The Beast Within
large door wrapped to look like an extravagant gift

with a big gold bow.
“What is this?” Nanny snapped.
“Go inside and see for yourself!”
Tulip opened the giant gift-wrapped door to
find a winter wonderland within. There was an
enormous oak tree stretching to very heights of the
golden domed ceiling. It was covered in magnificent
lights and beautifully ornate finery that sparkled
in their glow. Under the tree was an abundance of
gifts, and standing among them was the Prince, his
arms stretched out as he waited to greet her. Tulip’s
heart was filled with joy. The Prince seemed to be
in wonderful spirits!
“My love! I am so happy to see you!” She wrapped
her arms around his waist and embraced him.
“Hello, my dearest. You are in quite a state from
traveling, aren’t you? I’m surprised you didn’t insist
to be taken to your rooms to make yourself present-
able before showing yourself.”
The Prince scowled as if he were looking at a
dirty serving girl and not the woman he loved.
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The Statue in the Observatory
“I’m sorry, dear, you’re right, of course.”

Lumiere, always the gentleman, and eager to
please the ladies, added, “It’s my fault, my lord.
I insisted she follow me at once. I knew you were
excited to show the princess the decorations.”
“I see. Well, Tulip dear, soon you will be queen
in these lands and, more important, queen in this
house, and you must learn to decide for yourself
what is right and insist upon it. I am sure next time
you will make the right choice.”
Tulip colored a deep crimson but found the most
authoritative voice she could manage.
“Yes, my love and prince. Lumiere, if you will
show Nanny and me to our rooms so we may ready
ourselves for dinner . . .”
With that, she left the room without even a kiss
for the Prince, for she was rushing to avoid letting
him see she was on the verge of tears.
How dare he suggest she was unseemly to come
into his company upon her arrival? Did she look
so grotesque? Lumiere seemed to hear her very
thoughts.
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The Beast Within
“As I said when you arrived, dear princess,” he

said, “you look lovely. Do not heed the master’s
words. He has been rather distracted as of late.”
Nanny and Tulip just looked at each other, won-
dering what this visit had in store.
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It seemed to Tulip there were fewer servants than

the last time she visited, though the castle didn’t
seem to suffer for it; it looked even more grand than
usual, having been decorated for the solstice. Her
favorite court companion, Pflanze, a beautiful black,
orange, and white cat, was in attendance to keep her
company. “Hello, beautiful Pflanze!” she said to her
little friend, and she leaned over to pat her on the
head.
“So you’ve named her? What a strange name.
What does it mean?”
Tulip looked up to see the Prince standing over
her.
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The Beast Within
“Oh! I don’t know! I thought you came up with

it. I was sure it was you who told me her name,” the
princess responded.
“It wasn’t me. I don’t even like the beast!” he
said, giving Pflanze a dirty look as she gave him her
customary side glance and adjusted her paws.
“Someone else must have told me, then,” said
the princess.
“Indeed! That is clear, someone else would have
had to tell you! I could puzzle that out on my own!
And like the featherhead you are apt to be, you’ve
completely forgotten who told you. But clearly
someone told you!”
Tulip just looked at him, trying not to let her lip
quiver as he went on.
“Never mind! I see you’ve not changed for din-
ner yet! Well, we can’t keep Mrs. Potts waiting.
What you’re wearing will just have to do! Come! I’ll
escort you into the dining room.”
Tulip’s heart sank. She had in fact changed for
dinner and made herself up considerably well—at
least, she thought so. She was wearing one of her
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finest gowns and had thought she looked quite

beautiful before she started down the stairway. She
made a special effort to look flawless in light of what
had happened upon her arrival. She wanted nothing
more than to run away from this place and never
come back again, but she was trapped. She didn’t
care how rich the Prince was, or how massive his
kingdom or influence; she couldn’t stand the idea of
being married to such a bully. She didn’t know what
to do. She decided to stay quiet on the matter until
she could talk to Nanny.
After dinner Tulip asked the Prince if he’d like
to go on a walk, and he agreed. He was being sullen
and quiet but not cross, so she was thankful. They
walked around the lake, which was frozen this time
of year but still breathtakingly beautiful.
“Could you show me the observatory, sweet-
heart? The sky is very clear and I should like to see
the view you’ve spoken of so frequently.”
“If you’d like.”
They walked the long stone spiral staircase until
they reached the top floor of the observatory. Even
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without the telescope, the view was spellbinding.

Tulip could see the entire sky through the glass
domed ceiling. She felt as if the stars were winking
back at her for how joyfully she looked upon them.
It seemed they were not the only ones who had
decided it was a good night to stargaze. Someone
was already looking through the telescope when
they reached the top of the stairs.
“Hello! Who’s there?”
The observer didn’t answer.
“I said, who’s there?”
Tulip was frightened, especially after the Prince
motioned her to get behind him for protection—but
as the Prince got closer to the intruder, he realized it
wasn’t a person at all, but a statue.
“What’s this?” He was nonplussed. There had
never been a statue up here before, and how on earth
had someone gotten it up here without some sort of
elaborate apparatus? There was no way something
that heavy could have been brought up the stairs
without his knowing.
Tulip started to giggle in nervous relief.
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“Oh my! It’s just a statue! I feel silly for being

so startled!”
But the Prince still had a look of confusion on
his face while she prattled on.
“But it does look kind of creepy, doesn’t it? It
almost looked like it was giving us a side glance
when we walked in! And how odd a pose for a
statue, leaning over looking into the telescope! It
obstructs our ability to look through it completely!
I’m sure this wasn’t your idea, dear! Honestly, I
don’t think I like it. I can’t tell if it’s meant to be
a man or a woman. Male or female, though, it does
look horrified, don’t you think? Like something
terrible came upon it and turned it into stone?”
The Prince hardly heard what she was rambling;
his mind was suddenly violated by terrible disem-
bodied voices from the past.
Your castle and its grounds shall also be cursed, then,
and everyone within will be forced to share your burden.
Nothing but horrors will surround you, from when you
look into a mirror to when you sit in your beloved rose
garden.
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The Beast Within
The Prince shuddered at the sound of the witch

Lucinda’s voice ringing in his ears. Was he cursed
after all? First the drastic change in his appearance
and now this strange event?
His servants trapped within stone? He couldn’t
imagine what it would be like to be trapped like
that. He wondered if the person trapped could hear
their conversation. If the person was aware he had
been entrapped in stone. The thought sent shivers
up the Prince’s spine.
“Darling, you look peaky! What’s the matter?”
Princess Tulip asked.
The Prince’s heart was racing, his chest felt
heavy, and it was hard for him to breathe. He sud-
denly realized everything the sisters had said was
coming true.
“Tulip! Do you love me? I mean, truly love me?”
When she looked at him, he looked like a lost
little boy and not the spiteful bully he’d been to her
as of late.
“I do, my love! Why do you ask?”
He grabbed her hand and held it tightly.
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“But would you love me if I were somehow

disfigured?”
“What a question, Prince! Of course I would!”
Her heart was again softening to the Prince. Not
since the night they had met and he had asked her
to marry him had he been so sweet.
“You know that I love you, my darling! I love
you more than anything!” he said desperately as
tears welled up in her eyes at his words.
“I do now, my love! I do now!”
Princess Tulip was happier than she had dared hope

on Solstice Eve. She hadn’t imagined such a turn of
character in the Prince, but since that night in the
observatory, he’d been nothing but sweet to her.
“Oh, Nanny! I do love him so!” she whispered
while sipping her spiced wine.
“How quickly you pivot from one emotion to
another, my dear!” said Nanny.
“But, Nanny! His disposition has fluctuated
greatly from one moment to the next! But I do feel
he’s finally himself again.”
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Nanny did not look convinced.

“We shall see, my dear.”
The Prince did look happy, Nanny had to admit,
and he seemed to be falling all over himself to make
Tulip happy. It was almost comical, actually, quite
like a mockery of love. But her Tulip was happy,
so she didn’t press the matter or cast an evil eye in
his direction. She did notice, however, Pflanze, who
was perched on Tulip’s lap, looking at the Prince
with hateful eyes. Nanny had to wonder why that
cat disliked him so. Perhaps she too saw through
this ruse.
The Prince was very pleased with the Solstice
Eve gathering. He was a bit exhausted by his atten-
tions to Tulip, but he had decided there was no bet-
ter way of breaking the curse than marrying Princess
Morningstar. It was clear she loved him a great deal,
so he was halfway there. All he had to do now was
make the sisters believe he loved her, too.
Of course, there were indeed things about her
that he loved. He loved her beauty, her coyness,
and her keeping her opinions to herself. There was
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nothing he hated more than a girl with too many

opinions of her own.
He liked that she showed no interest in books,
and that she didn’t prattle on about her pastimes. In
fact, he had no idea how she spent her time when she
wasn’t in his company. It was as if she didn’t exist
when she wasn’t with him. He imagined her sitting
in a little chair in her father’s castle, waiting for him
to send for her.
He loved how she never gave him a cross look
or scorned him even when he was in the foulest of
moods, and how easy she was to manage. Surely
that counted for something; surely that was a form
of love, was it not? And he figured the sweeter he
was to her, the more quickly he would reverse the
curse.
So that was the aim of this visit, to show the sis-
ters how much he loved Princess Tulip Morningstar.
But how would he get their attention?
Oh yes, they had said the Prince and his beloved
had to share true love’s kiss. Well, that would be
easy enough. He would just have to spirit her away
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to a romantic setting and bam! A kiss! A kiss she

would never forget!
He arranged the entire thing with Lumiere, who
was best at planning such romantic things.
“Romantic interludes,” he called them. “Oh yes,
Prince, she will melt into your arms in utter delight
when she sees what we have in store for her, mark
my words!”
“Wonderful, Lumiere. And Mrs. Potts—she’s
arranged a hamper for the picnic, has she?”
“Everything is taken care of, even the nanny. We
invited her to a tea party downstairs so she will be
very well occupied and you lovebirds will be able to
fly free without worry of her watchful gaze.”
The Prince laughed. Lumiere was always so
poetic when he spoke of love, so devoted to the
notion of it. The Prince couldn’t go wrong with hav-
ing him arrange this little escapade, and he was sure
Tulip would be very happy.
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The following afternoon, in the morning room,

Tulip was working at some needlepoint while idly
petting Pflanze as she pawed at some spools of
thread that fell onto her red velvet cushion.
Nanny was talking, presumably to Tulip, about
Mrs. Potts’s cobbler and wondering how hard it
would be to wrangle the recipe out of her when
Lumiere entered the room.
“Excuse me, lovely ladies, but my dear Tulip,
could you possibly spare your nanny for a few
moments? Mrs. Potts has arranged a lovely tea for
Nanny downstairs. I think she is eager for your com-
pany, Nanny.”
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The Beast Within
Nanny looked at Lumiere with a sly grin.

“And yes, Nanny, to be sure, she has baked a
peach cobbler for the tea. She knows how fond you
are of her cobblers.”
Nanny smiled. “Tulip, dear, you wouldn’t mind,
would you? You won’t feel too lonely if Nanny
slipped away for a spot of tea with old Mrs. Potts?”
Tulip grinned at her nanny and said, “Of course
not, I have Pflanze to keep me company.” And then,
looking at Pflanze, she added, “Don’t I, sweet girl?”
Pflanze just looked at Tulip with her large
black-rimmed golden eyes, tinted with tiny flakes
of green, and blinked them slowly at her as if to
say, “Yes.”
“See! I will be fine! Go have your tea!”
And off Nanny went.
Tulip didn’t know what she would do with-
out Nanny. But she knew once she was married,
she couldn’t justify having her in the household.
She would, of course, have a lady’s servant, but it
wouldn’t be the same. Perhaps since she and Mrs.
Potts had become so friendly, it wouldn’t seem
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strange to keep her on. She would have to talk to her

mother about that when she returned from her trip.
The Prince soon walked into the room, taking
Tulip’s mind off her future household concerns. She
knew he didn’t like Pflanze sitting on his fine cush-
ions, but she couldn’t help indulging the creature.
“Hello, my love. I have a little surprise for you.
Do you think I can steal you away while we don’t
have Nanny to worry about, snooping around or
wondering where you are?”
Tulip’s face transformed into something shining
and bright. She couldn’t remember ever being so
happy, not even when her father gave her Cupcake,
her favorite horse. Oh, Cupcake! She couldn’t wait
to see her again. She wondered if the Prince would
object to Cupcake’s coming to live here once they
were married. So many things to think about.
“Darling?” His voice brought Tulip out of her
deep thoughts.
“Oh, yes, dear, I’m sorry. I was just thinking
about how much I love you! And how sweet you
are for asking Mrs. Potts to invite Nanny for tea
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The Beast Within
so we could have some time together alone.”

The Prince smiled.
“So you worked out my clever scheme? Aren’t
you a cunning girl?” he said. “Come now! I have
something I would like to show you.”
“What is it?” Tulip squealed like an excited
little girl.
“You will just have to wait and see, my love, but
first you will have to put this on.”
He handed her a long white piece of silk.
She looked at him queerly.
“It’s a surprise, my love. Trust me.” He helped
her tie the blindfold and led her to what she was
sure was the courtyard. He let go of her hand and
gently kissed her on the cheek. “Count to fifty, my
dear, and then take off the blindfold.”
He could see she was frightened.
“My dear, you’re trembling. There’s nothing
to fear. I will be waiting for you at the end of your
journey.”
“My journey?” Her voice sounded small and
confused.
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“It won’t be a long journey, my princess, and the

way will be quite clear. Now count to fifty.”
She could hear his footfalls moving farther and
farther away as she counted in her mind. It was
silly to be so frightened, but she hated nothing
more than the dark. Nanny tried everything to help
quell her fear of darkness, but nothing worked. She
tried not to count too quickly so she wouldn’t ruin
the Prince’s surprise, but found herself becoming
too fearful of the confining darkness. “Forty-eight,
forty-nine, fifty!” She ripped the silk sash from her
eyes. It took a moment for them to adjust before
she saw the path laid before her. The tips of her toes
touched the scattered pink rose petals that had been
strewn across the courtyard to create a path that led
right into the hedge maze. Her fears fluttered away
as she quickly walked upon the petals, eager to
venture into the maze constructed of animal topiar-
ies. The petals led her past an exceptionally large
serpent, its mouth gaping wide and bearing long,
deadly fangs. The serpent twisted its way around the
corner, revealing a part of the maze she’d never seen.
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The Beast Within
It was a replica of the castle, almost exact in every

way except for the many griffons and gargoyles
perched on every corner and turret. She imagined
her future children playing here one day, laughing
and making a game of the animals in the maze.
What a lovely place this would be for children. She
stopped her daydreaming and followed the rose pet-
als past several whimsical animals, some of which
she didn’t know. She often felt cheated having been
born a girl, not having had tutors like her brother
had or the freedom to explore the world. Women
learned of the world through their fathers, their
brothers, and, if they were lucky, their husbands. It
didn’t seem quite fair.
She was accomplished for a girl—she knew how
to sew, sing, paint watercolors, and even play the
harpsichord fairly well—but she could not name all
the animals in what would soon be her own hedge
maze. She felt stupid most of the time and hoped
others didn’t see her in that light but feared they
usually did.
“Never mind that,” she said to herself, and was
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surprised to see that the trail of petals led out of the

hedge maze and away from the mysterious animals
that made her feel foolish and into a lovely garden
she hadn’t yet seen on her visits here.
It was enclosed with a low semicircle wall, and
within were lovely bright-colored flowers. For a
moment she thought she found herself stumbling
upon springtide; it was such a remarkable sight, so
bright and full of life in the middle of the wintery
landscape. She couldn’t fathom how the flowers
thrived in such bitter cold. Scattered among the
flowers were beautiful statues, characters from leg-
ends and myths; she knew that much from listening
in on her brother’s lessons with his tutors before
Nanny would take her away to practice walking.
Practice walking, indeed!
No wonder men didn’t take women seriously;
they had classes in walking while men learned
ancient languages.
The garden was stunning, and very much like a
fairy tale, filled with the cold blue light of the win-
ter afternoon. Nestled in the center of the enchanted
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The Beast Within
garden was a stone bench, where her dearest was

waiting for her, smiling with his hand outstretched.
“It’s so beautiful, my love! How is this possible?”
The Prince’s smile broadened.
“I arranged flowers from the hothouse to be
moved here so you may experience the joy of spring.”
She sighed.
“You’re amazing, my dearest! Thank you,” she
said coyly as she lowered her eyes to the flowers in
the snow.
The Prince decided this was the moment—the
moment when he would kiss her and break the
curse.
“May I kiss you, my love?”
Tulip looked around as if expecting her mother
or Nanny to come upon them at any moment, and
then, deciding she didn’t care if they did, she kissed
him! And then she kissed him again, and again.
As they walked back to the castle, the Prince
seemed happier and more at ease than she’d ever
known him to be. It was all so unexpected—this
day, his attentiveness, everything that had happened
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on this visit, really. She felt much better about their

upcoming marriage. She had been rather worried
before, and now she could hardly recall why.
“Did you hear that, Tulip?” The Prince’s mood
shifted from gleeful to panicked.
“Hear what, dear?”
She hadn’t heard a thing aside from the birds
singing in the nearby trees.
“That noise—it sounded like an animal, like a
growl.”
Tulip laughed, making a joke of it.
“Perhaps the hedge animals have come to life
and they are going to eat us alive!”
The Prince looked as though he’d taken her jest
quite seriously. His eyes were darting about as he
tried to find the location of the wild beast.
“You don’t really think there is an animal in
here with us, do you?”
When she realized he was, in fact, serious, she
became very frightened.
“I don’t know, Tulip, stay right here. I’m going
to check it out.”
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The Beast Within
“No! Don’t leave me here alone! I don’t want

to be eaten by whatever is prowling around in
here!”
The Prince was becoming very impatient.
“You won’t if you stay here like I’ve told you.
Now be quiet and please do let go of my hand!”
He ripped his hand away from hers before she
could comply with his request, and she stood there
frozen in fear as he dashed off looking for wild
beasts.
She sat there fretting for some time before the
Prince came back for her.
“Oh my goodness!” she gasped.
He was badly clawed across his forearm. Whatever
had attacked him had clawed right through his
jacket and left deep bloody wounds in his arm.
“My love, you’re hurt!”
The Prince looked stricken and angry.
“Brilliant of you to have surmised that, my
dear,” he moaned.
“What happened? What attacked you?” she said,
trying not to let his bad temper affect her.
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“Clearly some sort of wild beast with sharp

claws.”
She knew it was better to ask nothing more than
to provoke him into further bitterness.
“Let’s get you back to the castle so we can have
that taken care of.”
They walked back in silence. She felt like his
attitude toward her had completely shifted again.
She tried to put it out of her mind, but she couldn’t
help feeling his anger was directed at her and not at
the beast that had attacked him.
She wanted to cry, but she knew that would
just make him angrier, so she walked back to the
castle saying nothing, hoping his temper would be
quelled.
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Chapter XII
Cogsworth did not greet them at the door as he

normally did; instead it was Lumiere.
“Where is Cogsworth? I need him to fetch the
doctor!” the Prince barked.
Lumiere looked worried, but not just for his
master. It seemed as if something else was going on,
something he dreaded telling the Prince.
“Of course, Prince. I shall take care of it.”
As he was walking away to have one of the por-
ters send a message for the doctor, the Prince said,
“And send me Cogsworth!”
Lumiere stopped dead in his tracks and it took
him quite a few moments before he turned around
to respond.
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Chapter XII
“Well, sir, you see, we don’t know where

Cogsworth is.”
“What on earth are you talking about, you don’t
know where he is? He’s always here! Go and find
him at once and tell him I need him! Never mind! I
will ring for him myself.”
He went to the mantel to pull the cord that
summoned Cogsworth.
“Excuse me, sir, but he’s not there. We’ve
searched the entire estate and we cannot find him.
We’re all very worried.”
The Prince was going out of his mind with anger.
“This is nonsense! Where on earth is the man?
It’s not like him to shirk his duties!”
“I know, sir, that is why we are all so worried.
Mrs. Potts is in a heap of tears downstairs! She’s
had Chip looking everywhere for him. Everyone has
been looking, sir. Do you recall the last time you
saw him?”
He couldn’t.
“Come to think of it, I have not seen him
all day.”
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The Beast Within
Tulip interjected, “This is very vexing, but I

think we should call the doctor, don’t you? I’m wor-
ried about your arm, my love.”
Lumiere was rattled out of his panic for his friend
Cogsworth and switched his focus to his master.
“Yes, sir, I’d better take care of that first
thing, and then we will arrange another search for
Cogsworth.”
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Chapter XIII
The B ounder
The entire household was in a panic. Cogsworth

was nowhere to be found, and now it seemed Mrs.
Potts was also missing. “But, Nanny, it doesn’t
make sense! You were just having tea with her.
Where in the world would she have gone off to?”
Nanny’s eyes were red from crying.
“I don’t know! I went to fetch us some more hot
water for the tea. That Mrs. Potts is always bustling
about, and I just wanted her to sit for a spell. You
know that woman can’t just sit down to enjoy a
nice cup of tea without getting this or that for one
person or another. But wouldn’t you know it, once
I returned with the water, she was gone! And the
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The Beast Within
strangest thing, sitting there on the table was a

pretty little teapot as round as can be!”
Tulip was confused.
“Nanny, you were having tea. I don’t understand
why a pot upon the table would be so strange.”
Nanny said, “Ah, but you see, I had the teapot
we were using, didn’t I? To get the water. So why
was there another just sitting on the table?”
“That is strange, I suppose.”
Nanny’s face crinkled up.
“It’s more than strange, girl! Something is hap-
pening in this house! Something sinister! I felt it the
first time we arrived and now it’s getting stronger!”
Tulip wasn’t going to let Nanny get her worked
up with her superstitious nonsense. She’d done it far
too often in the past, and she wouldn’t allow herself
to be swept away by it again. Not now.
“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, girl! You
think Nanny is an old foolish woman, but I’ve been
on this earth much longer than most and I’ve seen
things most people only dream of.”
Tulip rolled her eyes, but Nanny went on.
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The Bounder
“I’m telling you, I think this place is cursed.”

Both ladies looked up from their conversation when
they heard Lumiere clearing his throat at the room’s
threshold.
“I just wanted you to know the doctor has left
and the Prince is resting comfortably.”
“Will he be okay?” Tulip asked, worried.
“Oh yes, he will be fine. He’s recovering and
exhausted, that’s all. I’m sure he will want to see
you tomorrow,” he said, smiling in an attempt to
lighten the mood.
“Tomorrow? Not today?” Tulip wondered, but
she smiled back at Lumiere. She couldn’t help it;
there was something about him.
“You needn’t fuss over us this evening for din-
ner,” she said. “You can just bring us something on
a tray. We can eat in our rooms or perhaps next to
the fire in the sitting room. I’m sure everyone is in
a tizzy down there with Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth
missing. I don’t want you worrying over us.”
Nanny looked pleased with the job she had done
raising Tulip; she sounded not only like a real queen
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The Beast Within
but a very compassionate one at that. But the flirty

little Frenchman wouldn’t hear of serving guests on
trays in the sitting room or any other room aside
from the dining hall.
“Oh no! That will not do! If Mrs. Potts were
here, she would blow her lid at the thought of you
two eating off trays! And as for the menu this eve-
ning, never fear, we have something special planned
for you!” He smiled another magical grin and said,
“The dressing gong will be at six o’clock, dinner at
eight o’clock. See you then!”
Then he was gone, likely dashing his way down-
stairs to arrange dinner and supervise the search for
the missing servants. Tulip looked at her nanny
coyly. “You don’t think the two of them snuck off
together? Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts? You don’t
think they’re in love?”
Nanny laughed. “I wish it were as simple as
that, my girl, but no. Neither of them gave me
the slightest notion there was something between
them. No, I fear something dreadful has happened
to them.”
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The Bounder
Tulip rolled her eyes again. “Stop with all the

talk of curses, Nanny! I won’t have it. It’s too
dreadful!”
L ater that night, in the main dining hall, you

wouldn’t have known two of the most important
people on staff were missing. The room looked
lovely, decorated with some of the hothouse flowers
from Tulip’s surprise earlier in the day, and the can-
dles were sparkling brightly in crystal votive bowls,
casting an unearthly light. The two ladies were
enjoying their dessert when the Prince stumbled
into the room looking half crazed.
“I’m happy you ladies are enjoying your meal
while the entire household is falling into shambles
around you!” He looked terribly worn, as though
he’d aged several years from the ordeal. Nanny and
Tulip just stared at him, at a complete loss.
“Have you nothing to say for yourself, Tulip?
Sitting there stuffing yourself while my childhood
companions are suffering such a terrible fate?”
Nanny spoke first.
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The Beast Within
“Here now! I won’t have you speaking to her like

that. She’s been worried sick over them and you. We
both have!”
His face turned into something inhuman, some-
thing wicked and cruel. Nanny feared the Prince
was losing his mind.
“Don’t look at me like that, old woman! I won’t
have you casting evil looks at me! And you . . . !”
He turned his anger on Tulip. “You lying strumpet,
playing with my emotions, pretending you love me
when clearly you do not!”
Tulip gasped and melted into tears at once,
hardly able to speak.
“That’s not true! I do love you!” The Prince’s
face was ashen, his eyes sunken and dark with ill-
ness, his anger growing with every word.
“If you loved me, truly loved me, then none of
this would be happening! Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth
would be here! The animals in the maze wouldn’t
have attacked me, and I wouldn’t look like this! Look
at me! Every day I grow uglier, more wretched.”
Nanny put her arm around Tulip, who was
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The Bounder
crying so hard she couldn’t breathe properly, let

alone say anything in her defense. Though even if
she had, he wouldn’t have heard her; his anger was
growing completely out of control.
“I can’t stand the sight of you! I want you out of
my castle this moment! Don’t bother packing your
things.”
He rushed to the ladies, grasped Tulip by the
hair, and pulled her toward the door, knocking over
Nanny in the process.
“I won’t have you in the castle another moment,
do you understand? You disgust me!”
Tulip was weeping harder than ever, screaming
for the Prince to let her go so she could see to her
nanny, when Gaston came into the room.
“What on earth is going on here, man?”
He wrenched Tulip from the Prince’s clutches
and helped Nanny to her feet.
“What are you playing at, Prince? You’re
deranged!” Then, turning his attention to the ladies,
he said, “Go to your rooms, ladies, I will take care
of this.”
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The Beast Within
The ladies waited in their rooms with their bags

hastily packed. They had no idea what to think of
the entire matter. Clearly the Prince was suffering
from some sort of fever from his wounds and exhaus-
tion. They sat in silence until Lumiere came into the
room. His face looked grieved.
“Princess, I see you have packed your things. If
you and Nanny could follow me, I will escort you to
your carriage.” He could see the numerous questions
written on Tulip’s face. “We think it’s best you go
home to your mother and father. The Prince will
write you when he is feeling, more . . . like himself
again.”
Nanny spoke. “Yes, I think that is best. Come
now, child, all will be well. I promise.”
And the ladies walked through the castle and
into the courtyard to meet the carriage with as much
dignity and composure as they could gather in light
of their terrible ordeal.
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Chapter XIV
The princess never heard from the Prince again.

The Prince had stopped raging on about spells and
evil curses; he saw how they looked at him when he
did. They thought he was mad. He couldn’t blame
them. He often thought himself mad. He almost
wished he were. He had taken to keeping within
doors since he had chased Tulip out of the castle. He
never left his room, didn’t allow the servants to open
the drapes, and lit only one candle in the evenings,
saying the doctor advised it for his recovery. The
only visitor allowed was Gaston.
“You’re sure this is how you’d like to handle
this, Prince?”
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The Beast Within
The Prince did his level best not to slip into one
of the fits of rage that seemed to seize him so easily
these days.
“I am quite sure, my friend. It’s the only way.
You’re to ride out to Morningstar Castle to officially
break off the engagement.”
“And what of the marriage settlement? The
king will be destitute without your promised
arrangement.”
The Prince smiled. “I’m sure he will. But that is
what he deserves for flinging his stupid daughter at
me! She never loved me, Gaston! Never! It was all
lies! All a means to get to my money, for herself and
her father’s kingdom!”
Gaston saw he was getting worked up. He didn’t
bother arguing that he thought Tulip actually did
love him. He had tried convincing him of that in
the first few weeks of his breakdown. But nothing
Gaston said convinced him. Something must have
happened that day in the hedge maze to make the
Prince believe Tulip didn’t love him, and there was
nothing anyone could say to convince him of the
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Chapter XIV
contrary. Whatever it was, Gaston had to trust that

his friend was right. Tulip might have been playing
him a fool all along. Frankly, Gaston didn’t think
she was smart enough to play such a clever trick; he
hadn’t marked her as a mercenary. He had thought
he’d chosen so wisely when he originally made the
match, and now he felt sorry for the trouble it had
caused.
“I will ride out this day, my good friend. You
just rest.”
The Prince smiled a wicked smile that distorted
his face in the vague candlelight, casting villainous
shadows. It almost made Gaston frightened of his
friend.
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Chapter XV
The Hunt
The Prince hadn’t left his rooms for months; he

was held captive by his fear and anger, which were
mounting by the day. The only servant he now saw
was Lumiere, and he was rather oblique on mat-
ters of the household when the Prince inquired.
He stood there holding a small gold candelabrum,
making sure not to cast light on his master’s face, or
his own, for fear of showing the pure terror he was
trying to conceal while looking at the Prince’s.
The prince looked ghastly, pale and worn. His
eyes were like black pits and his features were
becoming more animal than human. Lumiere hadn’t
the heart to tell the Prince that everyone else in the
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The Hunt
castle had become enchanted after he broke Tulip’s

heart. It became clear to Lumiere that the Prince
did not see the servants as they saw themselves.
Whatever he saw was horrifying. He kept going on
about statues moving about the castle, casting their
eyes in his direction when he wasn’t looking.
Lumiere and the other servants saw nothing of
the sort, and not a single person on staff wished the
Prince harm. Lumiere knew it was only a matter
of time before he, too, was transformed into some
household object like the others, and then his mas-
ter would be left alone with only the horrors that
were conjured in his mind by those wicked sisters.
Lumiere wished there was another way; he
wished the Prince hadn’t taken this path, dragging
the entire household along with him into darkness.
How he missed the young man the Prince had once
been, before cruelty overtook him and besmirched
his heart.
Mrs. Potts had reminded them with stories of
what a promising young man he had once been, and
Cogsworth still held faith the Prince would change
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The Beast Within
his heart and break the curse; they all did. In the
meantime, it was up to Lumiere to take care of him
as long as he could.
“Won’t you please go outside, Prince? You are
withering within doors. You need to see the sun and
breathe fresh air!”
The Prince dreaded the idea of anyone seeing
him as he was. After the ruin of Tulip’s family, his
malformation progressed beyond his wildest fears.
He looked like a monster.
Like a beast.
Clearly there was nothing he could do to break
the curse; the sisters had lied. They had never
intended for him to be able to break the curse; all
his efforts with Tulip were in vain.
Lumiere was still standing there, waiting for his
answer. The Prince was only reminded of that when
he heard the man clear his throat.
“Yes, man, I heard you! I will go outside but not
until nightfall! And I don’t want anyone lurking
in the halls to catch sight of me, do you understand?
I don’t want to see a single soul! If someone is
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The Hunt
afoot, they are to avert their gaze from me!”

Lumiere nodded in understanding.
“Shall I arrange dinner in the main dining hall,
sir? It’s been some time since we’ve had the oppor-
tunity to serve you at the table.”
The Prince felt sickened at the thought.
“We shall see! Now go! I want to be alone.”
Lumiere left the room, stopping in the hall to
speak to someone. The Prince got himself out of bed
for the first time in weeks. His body ached and was
stiff—so stiff he found it surprisingly hard to make
his way to the door. But the voice sounded like
Cogsworth’s, and he desperately wanted to see him.
When he opened the door, he expected to find the
two men talking, but only found Lumiere.
“What is going on? I heard you speaking to
someone!”
Lumiere turned around in fright.
“Only to myself, while I was winding this clock,
sir. I’m sorry to disturb you!”
The Prince was losing his temper again, spiral-
ing into a dangerous rage.
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The Beast Within
“Balderdash! I heard Cogsworth’s voice!”

Lumiere looked sad at the mention of his name,
but the Prince persisted. “You mean to tell me you
weren’t speaking to him? You haven’t seen him at
all?”
Lumiere, still holding his brass candlestick,
calmly replied, “I can say with all honesty, sir, it
has been some time since I’ve seen dear Cogsworth
in the flesh.”
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Chapter XVI
Twilight was his favorite time, the in-between

time when everything looked perfect and anything
was possible, especially in spring. The sky was lilac,
making the moon all the more striking in the dark-
ening sky.
The Prince did feel better being outdoors, and
Lumiere had made good on his promise. The Prince
hadn’t seen a single person while making his way
out of the castle. Though he couldn’t help feeling
fearful someone could come upon him at any time.
He decided a walk in the woods would be best.
Once there, he felt more at ease. It was darker now,
and the canopy of trees overhead obscured the light
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The Beast Within
almost entirely except for little patches revealing a

star-filled blanket of night. He had always seen well
in the dark, but since he’d been in seclusion for so
long, his eyes were even keener in darkness than
before. He did feel quite beastly, actually, like a
creature prowling in the forest.
Prowling.
Yes, that was exactly what he was doing, and
he liked it. He almost felt more at home here than
he did in his chamber. At times he felt like he
couldn’t breathe in his room, just sitting there,
waiting for those sisters to swoop upon him like a
pack of Gorgons. However, in the forest, everything
felt right, somehow perfect, like home. Though he
wasn’t sure if that, too, was the lure of the witches.
If they had somehow enchanted the forest to draw
him in, make him feel more natural there, trap him
in surroundings that would increase his beastliness.
He suddenly wanted to flee home, to shut himself
away, but something caught his ear.
He quickly hid behind a very large moss-covered
tree stump to see what was coming. It was Gaston
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Chapter XVI
with his hunting rifle, but before the Prince could

react, shots rained upon him, penetrating the
tree trunk, splintering the wood and sending his
heart into a manic rhythm he thought would kill
him.
Something other than fear was growing inside
him, something terrible and dark that obscured
his love for—even made him forget—his friend.
Indeed, for a moment, this beast couldn’t recall
Gaston. There was some recollection, but nothing
he could put his finger on. Then he remembered.
He felt different, like he was slipping into a
deep, dark ocean; he felt himself drowning in it,
losing himself completely while something else
took over, something that felt alien yet familiar and
comfortable at the same time.
Everything in his periphery narrowed, and the
only thing he could focus on was Gaston. Nothing
else existed; nothing else mattered but the sound of
blood rushing to Gaston’s beating heart. The sound
enveloped him, matching his own heartbeat. He
wanted Gaston’s blood. He wasn’t even aware that
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The Beast Within
he rushed forward, knocking Gaston over and pin-

ning him to the ground.
His own power frightened him; it was so easy
to take a man down, to hold him there, rendering
him defenseless. He wanted nothing more than to
taste his warm salty blood. But then he looked into
Gaston’s eyes and saw fear. And he again recognized
his friend.
Gaston was frightened. The Prince had not seen
him look fearful since they were young boys.
He had been about to take the life of his best
friend. A man who had saved his life when they were
boys. He took Gaston’s gun from him and flung it
far into the woods and ran as fast as he could, leav-
ing Gaston alone wondering what sort of beast had
attacked him. He could only hope his friend didn’t
know it was him.
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Chapter XVII
The Prince in Exile
The Prince didn’t leave his rooms after that night

in the woods. He heard the commotion downstairs
when Gaston burst into the castle, seeking help
with his wounds. The Prince wanted to help his
friend but knew Lumiere had it well in hand. The
doctor was called, Gaston’s wounds were attended
to, and excuses were made for the Prince’s absence.
“How did you explain the state of the castle?”
the Prince asked Lumiere later, wondering how
things must have looked to Gaston.
But it might not have mattered to Gaston—
who, like the Prince, appeared to be losing recol-
lection of the Prince’s former life. In fact, even
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The Beast Within
the court was losing any awareness of Gaston, the

Prince, and, in some cases, their own lives before the
cursed transformation.
“A man came to the castle. A stranger, but so
familiar,” Lumiere had said, referring to Gaston.
“He had been attacked in the forest nearby while
hunting. And he apologized for intruding on a royal
court, but needed help. He was mortally wounded.”
“This man,” the Prince said, “had he any idea
what attacked him in the forest?”
“A beast, sir, that is what he said, some sort of
animal. But like none he’d ever seen before.”
Animal.
Beast.
Weren’t those the words the witches used? The
exact words? Those women were probably dancing
with joy, chanting, and clicking the awful heels of
their stupid little boots.
“Sir,” Lumiere croaked, “might I suggest saying
you prefer the castle to be left unoccupied and kept
for you by the groundskeeper?”
“Have we a groundskeeper?” asked the Prince,
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The Prince in Exile
once again struggling for recollection.

“Yes, sir. Not in the traditional sense, but yes.
We have everything. Everyone is here, sir, you
just don’t see them. Your every wish will still be
attended to.”
He looked lost in thought and confusion for
a moment while the Prince waited for him to
continue.
“And I don’t know, sir, how long you will have
me as companion. I don’t know what will become of
me when the curse takes its effects. But I will still
be here like the rest, I’m sure of that. We will all do
our best to make ourselves known to you when we
can. To let you know you’re not alone.”
The Prince didn’t know what to say.
“We just hope you’re able to break the curse.”
Something snapped in his mind; his eyes were
wild and he verged on the edge of frenzy. Break the
curse! He hopes I’m able to break the curse!
“As if there was a moment that went by that I
thought of anything else but breaking this accursed
spell! Get out of here before I strike you!”
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The Beast Within
Lumiere backed away with every spiteful word.

“I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t . . .”
“Get out now!” And that was the last the Prince,
now the Beast, saw of Lumiere.
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Chapter XVIII
The Odd Sisters’ Spy
At the top of a grassy hill was a dark green ginger-

bread-style mansion trimmed with gold and with
black shutters. Its roof stretched toward the sky, its
shape resembling a tall witch’s cap. Nestled within
the house were the odd sisters, having their morn-
ing tea. Martha was bringing in a tray of hot blue-
berry scones when she heard Lucinda squeal with
delight.
“She’s here! She’s here!”
All the sisters ran to the window, tripping over
themselves to see who was there. She walked up the
dirt path. Her beautiful golden eyes, lined in black,
shined little specks of green in the morning light
147
The Beast Within
as she made her way to the front door. Martha was

there to greet her.
“Pflanze, hello! Ruby, get her a saucer of milk!”
Pflanze walked in calmly among the frenzied
squeals of excitement that surrounded her. She took
her customary seat at the kitchen table, where her
saucer of milk was already waiting for her.
Lucinda spoke first. “We’ve seen everything,
Pflanze.” She was shaking with delight, she was so
excited!
“Yes, everything! We’ve seen it all!” said Ruby.
“You’ve done well, our beloved!” They surrounded
her, chattering away like little birds while she drank
her milk. The heels of their boots where making
a clicking sound on the wood floor as they sang
Pflanze’s praises.
Circe came into the room bleary-eyed to see why
her sisters were in such a blissful tizzy at that early
hour.
“Ah, I see, Pflanze has finally come home!” She
stroked Pflanze on the head as she finished up her
milk.
148
“And where did you get off to, pretty girl?”

Circe’s older sisters looked at each other fear-
fully, which only succeeded in making them look
guilty. It was rare Circe let them get away with their
small deceptions. They found it very hard to keep
secrets from their little sister. They were often up
to some sort of skullduggery, anyway, so it wasn’t
a stretch when she’d ask what they’d been doing. It
was almost as if they liked being caught by her.
“Or perhaps I should be asking you ladies what
you’ve been doing?”
Lucinda put on the most innocent face she could
conjure, but it didn’t fool Circe. “Oh, don’t try
pulling that with me, Lucinda! I know when you’ve
been up to your trickery. Now out with it!”
Pflanze looked up at the witches, all four of them,
blinked slowly in thanks for the milk, adjusted her
paws, and jumped down from the table. She was
above such conversations. She curled up in front of
the fireplace while the sisters had it out.
“So?” Circe had her hand on her hip, waiting for
her older sisters to answer.
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The Beast Within
“Pflanze has been with the Prince, keeping an

eye on him for us, that’s all.”
Circe rolled her eyes.
“I told you not to meddle with him. I told you
to leave him alone!”
Martha almost knocked over the teapot in pro-
test. “We haven’t meddled, I promise! We’ve just
been looking in on him.”
Circe couldn’t help asking, “And what did you
see?” but she knew the moment she asked it was a
mistake. The words rained down on her like a storm;
she got caught in the flurry of their fragmented sto-
ries that they were all too pleased to share.
“Oh, we’ve seen everything!” “Nasty, terrible
things!” “Worse than we imagined!” “Murder!”
“Lies!” “He drove a girl to suicide!” “She jumped off
the cliffs!” “Ugly, nasty, horrible beast!” “Broken
hearts, romancing tarts!” “Ah, are we rhyming now?
Lovely!”
Circe put an end to it before the rhyming con-
tinued. “No! No you’re not! No rhyming!”
Much like everyone else, Circe found it hard
150
to follow her sisters when they got excited. You’d

think after almost twenty years of living with them
it would get easier, but as the years passed, their
ways just made Circe’s head spin more.
“Sisters, please, just one of you speak, and please
tell it slowly and in a straight line.”
The three witches were stone silent.
“I know you are capable of speaking normally,
I’ve heard you do it! Please.”
Ruby spoke. “He’s turned into the Beast, as we
thought he would. He almost killed Gaston while
stalking in the forest.”
Circe looked disappointed. “But he didn’t kill
him, so there’s still hope?”
Lucinda’s already pinched lips puckered even
smaller. You could always tell how angry she was by
how small her lips became.
“You still love him, don’t you?”
Circe walked away from her sisters and sat on the
chair next to the fireplace to be near Pflanze.
“I wish you could talk, dear Pflanze. I wish
you could tell me what happened so I wouldn’t
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The Beast Within
have to suffer these lunatic sisters of mine!”

Martha chucked her teacup at the wall in
frustration.
“How dare you?”
Ruby had tears flowing from her eyes. “I never
thought to hear such words from you, little sister,
not after everything we’ve done for you!”
Circe put an end to the theatrics at once. “Just
stop! All of you! Stop! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,
it’s just sometimes you do drive me to distraction!
Of course I’m not in love with him, I had just hoped
he would have learned his lesson. Changed his ways
and made a better life for himself!”
Lucinda smiled at her little sister. “Of course,
dear, you always cared about people, we know.
Sometimes we forget that we are not alike. We care
only for you. We love you for your compassion, we
just do not share it.”
Circe didn’t understand her sisters. They lived in
a world logical only to them, with their own twisted
moral code. Often what they said made sense to
her intellectually; other times their words simply
152
confused her. This made her thankful for her capac-

ity for compassion. Without it, she felt, she would
be just like her older sisters.
“It’s hard to feel sorry for those willing to fling
themselves into disaster. They are their own undo-
ing, my dear. They bring it upon themselves. They
don’t merit your pity.”
Circe sighed, because she knew there was logic
in her sister’s argument; there was just no heart.
They sat to tea, chatting about everything the
Prince had done since she had last seen him, this
time more calmly.
“He thought he could break the curse with poor
Tulip, and she really did love him, adored him! But
he blamed her when their kiss did not break the
curse! Of course he didn’t love her. Not really. Not
true love. She loved him, true! But the curse dictates
both given and received! He thought his selfish ver-
sion of love would fool us, and he broke her heart in
the process!”
Circe felt horrible for what had happened to
Princess Tulip, and resigned herself to making
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The Beast Within
things right for her and her family. Lucinda saw in

Circe’s face that she felt guilty.
“The Prince did that to her, Circe, not you!”
Circe sighed and said, “I know, but he destroyed
her and her family trying to break the curse! My
curse!”
Martha smiled at her little sister. “The old queen
blighted the land and left a trail of disaster and
death in her wake. Should we blame ourselves?”
Ruby laughed. “Oh, how she would have hated
to be called the old queen! But that is what she has
become so many years after her death: she’s become
the old queen of legend and myth! But we know the
truth! We know she was real! The queen who ruined
herself over grief and vanity.”
Lucinda joined in the laughter. “Oh, she would
have hated that name indeed! She would fling
curses, and threaten to kill anyone who referred to
her as such! But she’s dead now! Dead, dead, dead!
Fallen off the rocky cliffs!”
Circe remembered Tulip.
“So, it was she—Tulip—who was driven to
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suicide? Who threw herself off the cliffs?” Circe

asked.
“Oh, I think she did for the loss of her daughter
and of herself. She drowned in her own misery and
regret in the end. I almost felt sorry for her.”
Circe wondered how many stories like this she
hadn’t heard from her sisters. It was clear they were
not speaking of Circe, but some other queen who
had thrown herself from a cliff.
“No, I meant Tulip. Your words led me to
believe she’d thrown herself off the cliffs of her
father’s shores.”
Lucinda answered, “She did, my dear, but was
saved by our friend Ursula.”
Circe glared at her sisters. “And what did the sea
witch demand in return?”
Ruby looked hurt. “You think so little of the
company we keep?”
Lucinda added, “And how would we know what
Ursula took from her? We are not privy to the
goings-on in every kingdom!”
Circe gave her sister a look as if she knew very
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The Beast Within
well that was a lie, and her sister relented, as they

often did with their Circe. She was their one weak-
ness. “She took nothing from her she actually
needed.”
Circe didn’t look convinced. “I want you to
make it right with Ursula! You give her something
in exchange for whatever she took from Tulip! And
I am going to sort out the kingdom’s affairs!”
Lucinda looked deeply unhappy. “If you insist.”
Circe narrowed her eyes. “I do! And, Sisters,
we’re to see that Tulip’s beauty is returned to her
without delay!”
Ruby was surprised their little sister had guessed
what the sea witch had swapped for Tulip’s life.
Circe smiled smugly. “Don’t look so surprised!
Ursula’s beauty was ripped from her years ago, so it
would stand to reason she would try to regain it by
devious means! I think it’s terrible what happened
to her, but it doesn’t excuse her actions!”
Lucinda spoke. “Doesn’t it? Someone has stolen
her beauty and absconded with her true voice. Her
losses are too many to count. So much was taken
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from her and then scattered across the vast ocean

so she may never find it again—and for what? A
trifle!”
Circe rolled her eyes at her sisters again.
Lucinda continued. “Whatever our differing
opinions may be, I will do what you ask because I
love you far too much to watch you suffer and blame
yourself for Tulip’s unhappiness.”
Martha looked panicked. “But what will we give
her? Nothing too precious, nothing from the vault!”
Ruby was also in a tizzy over the thought of
giving something away to Ursula. “Circe would
have us give away all our treasures! First one of our
enchanted mirrors, now what?”
Lucinda, who seemed unusually calm, quelled
Martha’s fears. “Don’t worry, we won’t part with
anything too precious. I promise.”
Then she looked to Circe. “I assume you will be
off to Morningstar Castle straightaway?”
Circe had in fact decided she would venture out
there right away.
“Yes, I will.” Lucinda went to the pantry and
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The Beast Within
pushed a few things about until she found what she

was looking for: a little velvet drawstring bag.
“When you get there, go to the cliffs and give
Ursula this. She will be waiting for you.” And she
added, “Tulip’s beauty will be returned.”
Circe smiled, transforming herself from her just-
awoken disheveled state to one that was more than
presentable for a journey to Morningstar Kingdom.
“I’ll be off, then. Don’t get into any trouble while
I’m away. It may be some time before I return.”
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Chapter XIX
The Wolves in
the Woods
The Beast woke on the floor in a room he seldom

visited. It was dark except for the pink glow of the
enchanted rose the sisters had given him on the
night of the curse so long ago; its light was hazy
under the protective glass dome that covered it, and
its petals were few. His anger and anxiety seemed
to have subsided after overhearing Belle refusing to
dine with him. The maelstrom of his life had finally
stopped spinning in his head, and he was able to
focus on the present. The present. Belle. How long
had she been here?
He could hear her in the hall. She was in the West
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The Beast Within
Wing! She knew it was forbidden. He had told her

so! It sounded like she was talking to Pflanze as they
made their way through the wing. Why did women
insist on talking to cats as if they understood what
they were saying? He could never grasp the concept.
He hid behind a changing screen, waiting to see if
she was going to enter the room. She did. His heart
raced. She was drawn to the rose, spellbound by its
beauty. Her curiosity pulled her to it as the Beast’s
panic rose, triggering his anger to dangerous pro-
portions. He snatched the domed lid from her hands
and slammed it back into place, making sure the
delicate flower wasn’t damaged. His anger raged.
All he saw was Belle’s terrified face.
“This room is forbidden! Now get out!” She
stuttered, trying to find words to defend herself, but
her fear took hold of her shaking body and she ran
out of the castle and into the forest. She was alone
and in despair. She didn’t care any longer about her
promise to stay in her father’s place.
She wanted to leave, to go home. Her father
would understand. Together they would find a way
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The Wolves in the Woods
to defeat the Beast. She refused to be his prisoner

one more night. She ran so far and so deep into the
forest she could no longer see the sky overhead; the
trees were tall and thick, and obscured every bit of
light the moon might have lent. The tree branches
looked menacing, like witches’ hands seeking her
death, and she heard howls in the distance. She was
alone and afraid.
The odd sisters laughed and stomped their boots
in outright bliss when they saw what was happen-
ing to Belle through Pflanze’s eyes. The Beast had
chased away any hope of breaking the curse. They
sang and danced, laughing all the while. “The Beast
chased away his chance to break the curse!” “The
girl is going to die!”
If Circe were there, she’d want to help the poor
girl, but her older sisters had something else entirely
in mind. They were quite happy with themselves.
They’d thought ahead; they’d thought to keep
Circe busy with the sea witch. They’d asked Ursula
to keep her there for as long as she could manage.
They didn’t want their little sister meddling in their
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The Beast Within
plans. Circe didn’t embrace death the way her sisters

did. She wouldn’t approve.
Lucinda took a little pouch that was tied to the
belt around her impossibly small waist. Inside the
pouch was a deep purple powder, which she sprin-
kled into the fireplace. A terrible black smoke rose
from the fire, taking the form of a wolf’s head. Its
dead shadowy eyes glowed a blazing copper.
Lucinda spoke. “Send the wolves into the wood,
scratch and bite until she bleeds, kill the beauty in
the wood, make him regret evil deeds!”
The witches laughed and watched the wolves
advance on Belle. They encircled her, growling
at her, showing their terrible sharp teeth. They
snapped at her, one of them ripping her dress. She
screamed.
This time the sisters said the words together:
“Send the wolves into the wood, scratch and bite
until she bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make
him regret evil deeds!”
Belle screamed again, keenly aware she was
about to die. There was nothing she could do! She
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had nothing with which to protect herself. She

looked for something, anything, that she could use
as a weapon.
The sisters continued their chanting. “Send the
wolves into the wood, scratch and bite until she
bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make him regret
evil deeds!”
The wolves were upon her. How she wished she
could see her father just one more time before she
died; she couldn’t bear to think of him living in a
world without her. He would be lost.
“Send the wolves into the wood, scratch and bite
until she bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make
him regret evil deeds!” The sisters were in a luna-
tic trance. Lucinda, delving even further into their
manic frenzy, changed the chant: “Rip her throat,
make her bleed, eat her flesh, my words you’ll
heed!”
Something flew past Belle—another wolf, she
thought, but no, it was enormous. Far too big to be
a wolf. Belle didn’t know what was happening. But
the sisters saw; they knew what it was.
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The Beast Within
“Rip her throat, make her bleed, eat her flesh,

my words you’ll heed!”
The creature was impossibly large and ferocious,
with huge talon-like claws and sharp terrible teeth.
Belle was in sheer panic as the sisters’ gruesome
chant grew louder and more feverish.
Belle didn’t want to die. She’d hardly had a
chance to experience life. So far she’d simply read
about the many things she’d like to experience, but
she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to do them. She
shut her eyes tightly, trying to be brave, trying not
to regret her choices.
The creature rushed past her, attacking the
wolves, killing them all in a bloody slaughter. It all
happened so quickly Belle hardly had time to react
before it was over. She looked up and saw she was
surrounded by blood. The earth was soaked in it;
everywhere she looked she saw death. It was terrible.
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What sort of monster could do this? She wanted to

run but saw the creature. He looked hurt. The mon-
ster that had saved her life was going to die; he was
bruised and bleeding, and exhausted from the fight.
Her heart went out to him. Something inside Belle
told her not to run, told her the creature needed her
help.
The sisters watched in shock, realizing their
mistake. They should never have sent those wolves
to kill Belle. The Beast was chasing her into the
woods because he was angry; his rage would have
gotten the best of him and he would have killed her
himself. The wolves were a distraction. The wolves
were their mistake. The wolves were dead and scat-
tered on the forest floor. The wolves’ blood was
black and sticky on the creature’s paws. The wolves
would bring them together.
The witches’ only solace was that Belle had seen
the Beast for what he was. She had seen the violence
he was capable of.
“She will be repulsed by him! Sickened by the
death that surrounds him!”
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The Beast Within
But if any one of us were there, standing near

that fire, and could see the looks on the sisters’
faces, we would see that the sister witches feared
the contrary. Why? Because they could see the look
on Belle’s face. They could detect her compassion
for the Beast. After all, he had just saved her life.
The odd sisters decided they needed to take further
action.
“It’s time to send Pflanze to see Gaston.”
“Oh yes, Sister! I’m sure he would like to know
where his dearest Belle has gotten off to!”
And Ruby added, “I bet he would, and I am sure
if anyone could destroy the Beast, it would be him!”
166
Chapter XX
The Beauty in
the Library
Belle wasn’t the sort of girl who got bored easily,

but she found herself tired of being trapped within
doors. It was too cold to go outside, so she sat idly
in the small study next to the fire, wondering when
she would see the Beast.
She had grown less cross with him since he had
saved her from the wolves, but she couldn’t forget
why she had run out into the forest, into danger: his
terrible temper. She played the scene in her head
over and over. The wolves, the woods, the Beast, the
blood. She had almost died that night because of
his rage, and why? Because she touched his precious
rose? Though her anger hadn’t stop her mending his
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The Beast Within
wounds, had it? She supposed it was the least she

could do after he’d saved her life.
Oh, stop this! she thought. She spent far too
much time thinking. That was all she did.
Think.
Analyze.
Brood.
She wondered how the women from the stories
she loved to read could bear it. Sitting around all
day so idle, just waiting to hear the day’s news from
men. But that was exactly what she was doing now,
wasn’t it? Waiting for the Beast. There was noth-
ing for her to do in the castle, and she thought she
would go mad from the banality. At least at home
with Father she had her books, and she could help
with his inventions. He needed her. She needed
him. She missed him, and she even missed the
people from the village.
It was true: everyone in the village thought
she was queer for reading so much, and she didn’t
exactly behave like other girls. So what if she was
more interested in reading about princesses than
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The Beauty in the Library
being one herself? She felt thankful her father always

gave her the freedom to express herself how she
wished and live her life the way she thought was
right. He allowed her to be herself. Not many young
women had that freedom, and she was starting to
understand what a rare and beautiful life she had
been living until recently.
Here she was stifled and alone.
The Beast watched her as she sat in the little red
chair next to the fireplace.
She didn’t know he was standing there. Her
face was squished up in disapproval. Like she was
reproaching herself inwardly. She was probably
scolding herself for mending his wounds, but she
couldn’t know the truth. How could she?
She didn’t know he just as easily could have
killed her had the wolves not been there to distract
him. Imagine it; imagine if he had killed her. How
horrible. Another terrible deed added to the long
list—a list no doubt being tallied by those witches.
He was sure it would have been the final act of evil
that would have pushed his dark heart into further
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The Beast Within
decay, and the witches would be here now to mock

him. He would have lost himself completely, if he
hadn’t already. Surely there was something left of
himself. He wasn’t entirely a beast now, was he? If
he was, wouldn’t he have killed her? He wouldn’t
have cared about breaking the curse. As it was, he
needed her desperately. She was his last chance. He
wasn’t sure if he deserved this chance, but he saw
Belle’s arrival at the castle as a sign he should try.
How could he possibly make himself love her?
Truly fall in love with someone like her? She was
nothing like the girls he fancied. She was beauti-
ful, yes, but not the in ways he usually admired. It
would never work, and even if he did fall in love
with her, how could she ever fall in love with him?
It was hopeless.
He was loathsome.
He saw that now, for the first time. He saw how
vile he’d become, and he felt he deserved Circe’s
punishment.
Perhaps this, right here, was his punishment:
never knowing what it was to love.
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Belle looked up at him and smiled. He hadn’t

expected that. “Belle, will you come with me?” She
raised one eyebrow and gave him a sly smile like she
didn’t trust him.
“Okay.”
They walked past the vestibule and into a long
passageway she hadn’t yet seen. It was sparse except
for a small red velvet bench and a lonely gargoyle
statue, and at the end of the passage was a large
arched doorway. When they reached the door, the
Beast said, “Belle, there is something I want to show
you.” He started to open the door but stopped him-
self. He was surprised by his nervousness.
“But first you have to close your eyes.”
She gave him that look again, like she didn’t
trust him. Honestly, how could she? he thought,
but she did seem intrigued.
“It’s a surprise!” he said, and she closed her eyes.
She could feel the passing of his hand in front of her
face to be sure she wasn’t peeking. Both of them
were so untrusting of each other. He took her by
the hands and led her into what seemed like a vast
171
The Beast Within
open space. She could tell by the sound her footsteps

were making.
“Can I open them?” Her voice echoed. If she
hadn’t known better, she would have thought per-
haps they were in a cathedral.
“No. No. Wait here!” He released her hands.
She heard a swish and then felt warm sunlight on
her face.
“Now can I open them?” He was actually enjoy-
ing this, giving her this gift, and he found himself
smiling for the first time in ages.
“All right, now!” he said, and she opened her
eyes, which widened at the remarkable sight. “I
can’t believe it! I’ve never seen so many books in my
entire life!” The Beast hadn’t expected to feel this
way, hadn’t expected what it would mean to him to
make someone so happy.
“You—you like it?” he asked, and she did, more
than she could express.
“It’s wonderful!” she said, happier than he’d ever
seen her before.
“Then it’s yours.” And he felt something
172
completely unexpected. What had started out as

a way to bring them closer together for the sake
of breaking the curse turned into something else,
something he didn’t understand.
He loved making her happy.
“Oh, thank you so much!” Books! Books made
her happy. She wasn’t like any girl he’d ever known
before, and he thought perhaps he liked it. In fact,
he was sure he did.
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Chapter XXI
Beauty and the Beast
The odd sisters were in a panic. Even they could see

Belle was warming up to the Beast, and the Beast—
well, he was experiencing something quite unique
to him and utterly terrifying to the witches.
They had to do something.
They had their hands full keeping watch over
Belle and the Beast, and now Gaston as well, since
they had sent Pflanze to keep an eye on him. They
were so consumed they never left the house for fear
they’d miss an opportunity to sink their claws fur-
ther into the Prince’s withering heart.
“Just look at them playing in the snow!” hissed
Ruby.
174
“Disgusting!” spat Martha.

“Look at the way she looks at him! Peeking at
him coyly from behind that tree! You don’t think
she’s falling in love with him, do you?” screamed
Lucinda.
“She couldn’t possibly!”
The sisters spent all their time now spying on
Belle and the Beast, and with each day their panic
grew. It was becoming painfully clear they were fall-
ing in love!
“Those damn servants aren’t helping. They con-
trive romance at every opportunity!” squealed Ruby.
Ruby, Martha, and Lucinda must have looked
a mess when Circe returned from her visit to
Morningstar Castle. When they heard her come in,
the three of them turned as one, startled to see their
little sister standing in the doorway. “Oh! Hello!”
they said together, looking frightfully tired and
rather crazed from long nights of fretting, spying,
and plotting.
Circe could see something was amiss.
“What is all this?” Circe asked.
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The Beast Within
Lucinda tried to put on her best face, though

having not seen herself in a mirror for several days,
she had no idea how frightful she looked. “What do
you mean, dear?” she said with a twitch and sputter.
Circe narrowed her eyes, looking as though she
was scanning her for some shred of the truth.
“This place! It’s a disaster! What on earth have
you been up to?”
The odd sisters just stood there. For once they
had nothing to say. Lucinda’s ringlets were tangled
much like a bird’s nest, with little bits of dried herbs
and candle wax stuck within them, while Ruby’s red
silk skirt was covered in gray ash and the feathers in
her hair were sticking out at even stranger angles
than usual, and poor Martha—her face was smudged
with some kind of orange powder.
They all stood there acting as if their appearance
was as normal as could be—like she was stupid or
didn’t have eyes in her head to see they were up to
some sort of trickery.
“Spell-work, I see!” Circe scolded. “You know,
whatever you’re doing, I’ve decided I don’t want to
176
know! Honestly, I don’t feel like dealing with what-

ever it is! Is anyone going to ask me how it went
with the sea witch?”
Ruby croaked her reply: “And how was it, dear?
Did you send our greetings?” Circe gave a start at
the sound of her sister’s voice but kept her questions
about what they’d been doing to herself.
“She’s very well, and was quite pleased with
the exchange.” She went on, “You know, out of all
your strange friends I like Ursula best. She’s very
amusing.”
The sisters laughed, croakily, their voices
wrecked from their endless chanting.
Circe couldn’t keep herself from asking this
time, “Seriously, what have you been up to? Look
at yourselves. You’re a mess, and what happened to
your voices? Why are you so hoarse?”
The sisters looked at each other, and with a
nod from Lucinda, Ruby took a necklace out of her
pocket.
“We got you this!” She dangled the pretty little
necklace from her fingertips, swinging it back and
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The Beast Within
forth in an attempt to distract her. It was a beautiful

necklace, braided silver with light pink stones.
“Yes! We got you a present, Circe!” Circe nar-
rowed her eyes at them.
“Do you think I’m stupid and so easily
distracted?”
Martha frowned theatrically. “We thought you
would like it! Try it on!”
Lucinda ran toward Circe like an excited little
child, her pale face haggard and her red lipstick
smudged. “Yes, try it on! I think it will look lovely.”
Lucinda went behind Circe to put it around her
neck. “Okay, fine! Let’s see what it looks like if it
will make you happy,” Lucinda said.
And when Lucinda fastened the clasp, Circe
slumped into her waiting arms. “That’s right, little
sister, sleep!” The three sisters carried Circe into her
room and placed her on the soft featherbed, where
she slept blissfully so her sisters could continue their
fiendish deeds undisturbed.
“We will wake you when it’s over, our sweet
little sister, and you will thank us for avenging
178
your broken heart.” “No one hurts our little sister!”

screamed Martha. “Shhh! You’ll wake her!” cried
Ruby, and Lucinda laughed. “Nothing will wake
her, not until we take the necklace from her pretty
little neck. . . .” “She won’t be angry with us, will
she?” Ruby fretted. “Oh no, she couldn’t be, we’re
doing this for her own good!”
179
Chapter XXII
The Enchanted Mirror
The sisters had seen enough of Belle and the

Beast over the past several days to know where this
was heading; what with their daily frolics, bird-
watching, and disgusting looks of tenderness, it was
all the sisters could do to keep themselves from
retching. If either of them got the nerve to kiss, it
would be over. The curse would be broken. Thank
Hades Belle and the Beast were too bashful to make
the first move, so for now the witches’ curse was
safe. What they needed to do was focus their atten-
tions on someone who could rip Belle and the Beast
apart before disaster struck, and that was when they
had their idea.
180
They gathered again near the fire, this time

tossing in a silver powder that sparked and made a
putrid smell.
“Make her miss Father dear, show Belle her
greatest fear.”
The witches’ laughs grew into a cacophonous
maelstrom that traveled with the winds to the
Beast’s enchanted castle, casting an ill omen over
the lovers holding hands in the moonlight.
The sisters watched.
“Belle, are you happy here with me?” The Beast’s
large paws enveloped her little hands as he waited
for her answer.
“Yes,” she said, turning away.
“What is it?”
She looked heartbroken.
“If only I could see my father again, just for a
moment. I miss him so much.”
“There is a way,” he said.
The sisters were still watching and holding their
breath.
“He’s taking her into the West Wing!” Ruby
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The Beast Within
whispered, as if the two lovers could hear the sisters’

remarks.
“Show her the mirror!” Martha screamed.
“Calm yourself, Sisters. He’ll show her the mir-
ror,” Lucinda said, smiling, as they watched to see
what would happen next.
“Shhh!” Martha hissed. “He’s saying something!”
“This mirror can show you anything, anything
you wish to see.”
The sisters had to cover their mouths to muffle
their squeals of glee threatening to burst from their
tiny ruby-red lips.
“Take it! Take the mirror!” Lucinda screamed,
trying to will Belle into taking the enchanted mir-
ror from the Beast. “She took it!”
“I’d like to see my father, please,” Belle said as
she looked into the little hand mirror.
The sisters chanted their wicked words one more
time.
“Make her miss Father dear, show Belle her
greatest fear!”
Their cackles echoed across the lands, and along
182
with them, their foul magic. Belle felt a terrible

chill. “Oh, Papa! Oh, no! He’s sick, maybe dying,
and he’s all alone.”
Ruby knocked over the scrying bowl, its water
spilling over the gingerbread house’s hardwood
floors. They could no longer see Belle or the Beast
or force their will upon them.
“Martha, quick, get more water!” Martha took
the silver bowl and filled it with water, splashing
some on her way back to her sisters, who were now
on the floor anguishing.
“Here! I have it!” she yelled. “Look! They are
starting to appear! What’s happening?” Ruby was
slamming her fists on the wet floor again and
again so violently her hands started to bleed.
“Ruby, stop! She’s leaving! She’s going to her
father! He’s released her!”
Ruby’s face was streaked with black tears. “But
did he give her the mirror? Is she taking it with her?
We were unable to finish the incantation!”
Lucinda looked up at her exhausted sisters,
worn from long days of witchery. “Not to worry,
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The Beast Within
Sisters, she had the mirror when she left.”

Ruby smiled a mischievous grin. “Everything
is in place, then. Perfect.” The sisters’ odious laugh
filled the room as they focused their attentions now
on someone who wouldn’t need much persuading to
commit a bit of chicanery.
184
Chapter XXIII
The Witches’ Plot
Gaston was sitting down to a large banquet in his

dining hall, which was heavily decorated with the
various animals he’d killed during his many hunt-
ing excursions. The chair at the head of the table, at
which he was seated, of course, was adorned with elk
antlers and draped with animal skins and furs. His
cleft chin was jutting out a bit farther than usual,
which was a manifestation of his extreme good
spirits—that is, until the odd sisters clamored in,
disturbing his banquet for one.
“Look here, foul witches! I won’t have you pop-
ping in and out of my home unannounced!”
“Sorry to disturb your meal, Gaston, but we
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The Beast Within
have news that you might find interesting.”

Gaston slammed his knife into his wooden din-
ing table. “First you send that foul slinking creature
to watch over me, and now this! Showing up when-
ever you desire, to make requests of me, no doubt!”
Ruby twitched her head to the right, about to
speak, but it was Martha who defended Pflanze.
“She’s not here to spy on you, Gaston. She’s here to
help you.”
Gaston’s laugh rivaled the witches’ own; it
filled the hall and reverberated in the witches’ ears.
“Help me? Help me? Why, I am the strongest, most
attractive man in the village!”
The sisters stared blankly at him, wondering if
he, or anyone else, really believed that.
“Yes, help you, Gaston. We’ve found Belle, and
she’s on her way to her father now.”
Gaston fixed his gaze on the witches for the first
time since they’d arrived. They had finally gotten
his full attention. Their dresses were deep red, the
exact shade of their lips, which were painted to look
like a baby doll’s. Their raven hair was fashioned in
186
The Witches’ Plot
shoulder-length ringlets around their pale faces and

adorned with large red plumes. They were pain-
fully thin and looked ludicrous in all their finery,
like skeletal beings brought back from the dead to
attend a fancy dress ball.
“You’ve found Belle?”
“Oh yes, we’ve found your dearest love!” Ruby
sang. “She won’t be able to resist you!”
Gaston looked at himself in the reflection of his
shiny knife and said, “Well, who can?”
Lucinda grinned, trying not to let Gaston
detect her repulsion. “We have arranged some
assurances, on the slightest chance she can.” Gaston
raised one brow in curiosity, but Martha continued
before he could comment. “We would like you to
meet a friend of ours,” she said with an evil smile
cracking her white face, makeup causing her to
look even more freakishly beautiful. “A very dear
friend who we think would be more than happy
to help you.” Gaston had to wonder what sort of
people the witches kept company with. “His name
is Monsieur D’Arque. He runs the sanitarium,”
187
The Beast Within
Lucinda answered, as if she heard his very thoughts.

Gaston wasn’t surprised that the sisters were
friendly with the rapscallion who ran the sanitarium.
Martha elaborated. “Maurice, Belle’s father, has
been raving about a beast, has he not? Perhaps the
sanitarium is just the place for him.” Ruby twit-
tered in delight when she added, “Though I’m sure
there would be no need for him to be institutional-
ized if Belle were to marry you. I’m sure between
the two of you Maurice would be well taken care of.”
Gaston grasped their meaning instantly, and he
was thunderstruck by the brilliance of the idea. He
would of course take the credit for the idea entirely.
“Hmmmm. Poor old Maurice has been raving
like a lunatic. Why, just the other night he was
gibbering incoherently about Belle being captured
by a beast.”
“See? You would be doing them both a favor if
you married Belle. Someone needs to take care of the
poor fellow.”
188
Chapter XXIV
Belle’s Betrayal
D ’Arque was more than happy to comply with

Gaston’s request to put Maurice into the sanitarium
if Belle did not agree to marry him. He knew very
well Maurice was just an odd little man who loved
only one thing more than his clanking apparatuses,
and that was his daughter, Belle.
D’Arque was quite content. His coffers were
filled, he had made a new alliance with Gaston, and
he was about to partake in some good old-fashioned
skullduggery.
He was aware of how intimidating he appeared,
illuminated by the torchlight, and he loved nothing
more than causing fear. Gaston and his mob were
189
The Beast Within
gathered in full force in front of Maurice’s home.

They were a rowdy bunch collected by Gaston from
the tavern at closing time. There was nothing quite
as menacing as a bunch of hooligans after a long
night of drinking with gold in their pockets and
hate in their hearts—all of which, in this case, was
supplied by Gaston. There was little doubt Belle
would agree to marry the braggart, and why not
marry him? She couldn’t possibly do better. Who
else in town would have her with all her strange
ways?
Belle answered the door, her eyes filled with fear.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“I’ve come to collect your father,” said D’Arque.
His withered skull-like face looked horrid in the
torchlight.
“My father?” she asked, confused.
“Don’t worry, mademoiselle, we’ll take good
care of him.” Belle was seized with fear. She under-
stood when she saw D’Arque’s wagon in the dis-
tance. They were taking her father to the asylum.
“My father is not crazy!”
190
Belle’s Betrayal
In the Beast’s small study, where the witches

had found him brooding, they watched through
Pflanze’s eyes everything that was transpiring.
“Look! Look here! She’s going to betray you!”
said Ruby, but the Beast wouldn’t come to the mir-
ror the witches had brought with them so he could
see what Pflanze saw.
“She won’t betray me, I know it!” The witches’
laugh filled the Beast’s head, driving him mad.
“She never loved you! How could she?” “She was
your prisoner!” “She only pretended to love you so
you would let her go!” “How could she ever love
someone as loathsome as you?”
The Beast’s anger rose to dangerous heights. His
roar caused the chandelier to rattle and the room to
shake, frightening even the sisters, but Lucinda per-
sisted. “Look! Here’s proof if you don’t believe us!”
And she showed him the mirror. Belle was standing
in front of an angry crowd. Holding the enchanted
mirror, she screamed, “Show them the Beast!”
His face appeared in the mirror, ugly, frighten-
ing, and foul, his roar terrifying the mob.
191
The Beast Within
“See! See? She’s betrayed you!” Lucinda said as

she danced in the Beast’s study.
“She never loved you!” screamed Ruby, joining
Lucinda in her absurd dance.
“She’s always loved Gaston!” chimed in Martha,
prancing about like a deranged peacock with her
sisters as they taunted the Beast.
“They’re to be married in the morning after he
kills you!” they all sang as they danced in a circle.
“It was their plan all along, you see!” They cackled
as their dance grew even more repugnant.
The Beast was finally defeated. Completely
diminished and heartbroken, he felt it was all he could
do to ask the sisters to leave. “Please leave. You’ve
gotten what you wanted. I have suffered for hurting
your sister. Now, please, I want to be alone.”
Lucinda’s laugh was more sinister than he’d ever
heard it before. “Oh, and you shall be alone! Alone
forever, forever a beast!” And the sisters were gone
before the sound of their laugh left his drafty study.
He was alone and he knew he had brought all this
on himself.
192
Belle’s Betrayal
Only one thing comforted him: he had finally

learned what it was to love. And the feeling was
deeper and more meaningful than anything he’d felt
before. He felt like he was dying. To die, one must
have first been alive. And the Beast could finally say
that by finding love, he had lived.
193
Chapter XXV
The Witches’ Party
The tall green house with black shutters and a

witches’-cap roof was silhouetted a little too per-
fectly against a deep blue twilight, like a paper cut-
out of a dollhouse. Nothing about the witches ever
seemed quite real, not even their house. Inside, the
witches danced while watching the Beast’s demise in
the many enchanted mirrors they had placed around
their main parlor. They drank honey wine, splash-
ing it on their deep purple dresses, which blossomed
about them as they spun in circles, laughing in the
face of their own frenzied insanity. They would stop
their bacchanalian antics only to mock the Beast and
praise themselves for having seen the curse through.
194
“He’s given up!” raved Ruby. “He wants to die!”

Lucinda scoffed. “He’s heartbroken, Sisters. He’d
rather die than live without that stupid girl!” All
three sisters laughed. “Now he knows what it is to
be heartbroken!”
The sisters were even more excited to see
Gaston’s mob arrive. “They’re attacking the castle!”
Gaston’s mob would have laid waste to the castle if
it weren’t for the servants.
“Bloody fools!” screamed Lucinda. “They’re try-
ing to defend the fiend!”
Martha spat at the outrageous spectacle between
the mob and the servants. “Sister! Don’t spit on our
treasures!” scolded Ruby, and then she saw a most
welcome sight. “Look! Gaston! He’s there! They’re
fighting on the roof!” The sisters stamped their feet,
flailing wildly in a manic dance while chanting
“Kill the Beast!” over and over. They said it until
their voices were raw as they watched the bloody
encounter between the old friends, who now were
cursed so that they did not remember each other.
The Beast didn’t even try to fight back. Gaston
195
The Beast Within
was going to kill him, and it seemed the Beast

welcomed it, as the sisters had hoped he would.
“Kill him, kill him, kill the Beast!” they yelled,
as if Gaston could hear their words, but something
changed, something wasn’t right. The Beast saw
something the sisters could not. Whatever it was
gave him the will to fight.
“What is it?” they screamed as they scurried from
mirror to mirror, trying to surmise what could possibly
have inspired the Beast to fight, and then they saw.
Belle.
That horrible girl, Belle!
“We should have killed her when we had the
chance!” Ruby cried.
“We tried!” Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha watched
as the Beast overpowered Gaston. He had him by
the throat, dangling him over the side of the castle.
“Quick, get the scrying bowl!” Lucinda scram-
bled in the pantry for the oils and herbs they needed
for the scrying bowl while Ruby filled the silver
bowl with water, and Martha got the egg from the
icebox. The egg floated in the water like a malevolent
196
eye while Ruby tossed in the oils and herbs.

“Make the Beast remember when they were
young.” Martha and Ruby looked at Lucinda,
mouths open.
“What?” Lucinda was panic-stricken.
“That didn’t rhyme, Lucinda!”
Lucinda rolled her eyes, vexed. “I don’t have
time to think of a rhyme! Just say it!” Ruby and
Martha looked at each other but didn’t repeat the
phrase. “What?” Lucinda asked again.
“It’s not as fun if it doesn’t rhyme.”
Lucinda checked the mirrors. The Beast still had
Gaston by the neck and was about to drop him. “Sisters,
say it with me now if you want to save Gaston!”
Ruby and Martha relented. “Fine! Make the
Beast remember when they were young.” Their
voices were flat and unenthusiastic.
“Say it again!” screamed Lucinda. “Say it louder!”
“Make the Beast remember when they were
young!” the sisters screeched.
“Remember when you were boys and he saved
your life! Just for a moment, remember each other,”
197
The Beast Within
Lucinda cried. Then, looking at her sisters, she added,

“Don’t look at me like that! I dare you to do better!”
Ruby was transfixed by something in the mirror
nearest her. “Look, it worked, he’s letting him go!”
The Beast was bringing Gaston back onto the
roof by the scruff of his neck. “Get out!” he growled,
tossing Gaston aside. The sisters knew Gaston
wouldn’t leave. They counted on it.
“Beast!” It was Belle. She was reaching her hand
out to him as he climbed up the turret to kiss her.
“No!” wailed the sisters. “No!”
But before Lucinda could recite another incan-
tation, her sisters screamed in glee at the sight of
Gaston plunging a large knife into the Beast’s side.
Their delight transmuted into fear, however, when
they saw Gaston lose his footing and fall from the
castle tower to his death below.
It didn’t matter. Gaston didn’t matter any-
more—not to the witches. He had given them what
they wanted; the Beast was dying. He was dying in
his lover’s arms, heartbroken.
“Let’s get Circe! She has to see this!”
198
Chapter XXVI
The Enchantress
Lucinda crept into Circe’s room, gazing at her

sleeping little sister. She looked so peaceful and
beautiful sleeping there. As she unfastened the neck-
lace, Lucinda knew in her heart that Circe would be
thankful for what her older sisters had done for her.
Circe opened her eyes, then blinked, trying to
see which of her sisters was looking down at her
with such a buggy expression on her face.
“Lucinda.” She smiled up at her.
“Circe, we have something to show you.
Something very important. Come with me.”
Lucinda led her befogged sister to the other
room. How it must have looked to Circe, who
199
The Beast Within
hadn’t been privy to the evening’s events. The room

was lit by an extravagant number of candles, all of
them white and reflecting beautifully in the many
enchanted mirrors placed around the space. In the
largest mirror she saw the Beast.
“What’s this?” she asked as she rushed over to
the mirror and placed her hand on its lovely silver
frame. “Is he dead?”
All three of her sisters were standing there,
hands clasped, like eager little girls waiting for
praise. Circe looked down at the scrying bowl, then
back to her sisters. She felt ill, hollow, and inhuman.
“You did this?” She thought she was going to
be sick. They said nothing. “You killed him?” she
cried.
“No! It was Gaston. He killed him!”
Circe couldn’t breathe. “With your assistance, I
see!” she said as she threw the scrying bowl across
the room.
“We thought you would be happy, Circe! We
did it for you!”
Circe stared at her sisters in shock. “How could
200
The Enchantress
you think I would want this? Look at the girl! She’s

heartbroken!”
She was looking at Belle in the enchanted mirror.
“I love you,” Belle said to the Beast as tears
streaked down her face.
Circe was also crying. Her heart was filled with
dread and regret. “I never wanted this to happen!”
she continued. “Look! She loves him! This isn’t fair.
I’m bringing him back! I’m giving him a chance to
break the curse.”
The odd sisters started to scream in protest as
they advanced on their little sister, but Circe’s fury
sent them flying back until they were pinned to
the wall.
“Not another word, do you understand? You say
one more word and I will give your voices to the sea
witch!”
Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha knew their little
sister’s powers were far greater than their own, but
they had always been able to manage her because
she was the youngest. It looked now as though that
time was past, however. They were too frightened to
201
The Beast Within
speak; like broken dolls, they looked inanimate and

frozen in their bizarre poses as Circe continued to
rail at them. “I’m bringing him back! I’m bringing
him back to life, do you understand? If he loves her,
too, then the curse will be broken.”
Her sisters hung there, pinned, unable or unwill-
ing to move, not saying a word.
“Never meddle with the Prince or Belle again! If
you do, I will make good on my promise! I will give
your voices to Ursula!” The odd sisters just stared
at her, wide-eyed, saying nothing, as they had been
commanded.
202
Chapter XXVII
Happily Ever After
Circe put her hand on the face of the mirror where

she saw Belle crying over the Beast’s dead body.
Rose and silver lights showered down around them,
lifting the Beast’s body into the air. It twisted and
entangled with the light until he was no longer the
Beast but the man Circe had once known so many
years before. The Prince.
With her magic, Circe encircled the lovers in
light that soared upward into the sky and cascaded
down again, transforming the castle and everyone
within it to their original forms.
“Lumiere! Cogsworth! Oh! Mrs. Potts! Look
at us!” cried the Prince. Circe smiled, seeing how
203
The Beast Within
happy the Prince and Belle were, surrounded by all

their friends and family—including Maurice, Belle’s
father, who had been saved from an unjust punish-
ment in the sanitarium.
It turned out exactly as Circe had hoped. The
Prince had finally learned what it was to love—to
truly love and to have that love returned.
She smiled again, taking one last look at the
Prince and Belle dancing in the great hall before
wiping their image from the enchanted mirror, leav-
ing them to live and love happily ever after.
The End
204

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The Beast Within - A Tale of Bea - Serena Valentino

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Title: The Beast Within

Subtitle: A Tale of Beauty’s Prince

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Disney Book Group

New York • Los Angeles

Copyright © 2014 Disney Enterprises, Inc. Published by Disney Press, an

Printed in the United States of America

The Beast stood in his rose garden, the overwhelm-

He stood there looking at the view of his castle

There had been many changes since the witches

Perhaps that was why he now detested being

since the curse. He spent many hours here, careful

of going within doors and facing the girl? She was

They appeared whenever they pleased and always

grin animating her too-red lips morbidly, like a

claws, he’d never have to listen to their shrill taunt-

see into the world beyond your kingdom, but she

his reverie. “It won’t be long now. . . .”

“And we shall take much pleasure in bearing

The Beast sighed and slumped down on the stone

a small brass candelabrum in one hand, candles

and how its cursed servants appeared to her.

control as he stormed his way to the West Wing.

beginning—hiding away, letting his anger swell to

of maddened minds? Here he was—taunted by

Women were easily managed then. A few flow-

reflection. He had to see how his odious deeds had

Before the curse, life had been good to the Prince.

It was a time when the Prince was just an arro-

Though swaggering in with the corpse of a giant elk

The only person who killed almost as many

perhaps he had felt it was better to keep his compe-

obsessed with a kooky little inventor’s daughter,

by marrying someone so low. Of course he couldn’t

brute. He would have words with him about this

ill will between the two. Gaston would, after all, be

no matter how close a royal family friend he might

the little farmhouse, which was tucked away beyond

The Prince scoffed. “What brings me indeed?

The Prince sat alone in his study, sipping a drink

largest trophy—the great elk. He was almost sad

beauty that had once stood in his rose garden all

“I cannot marry you, Circe. You must have

“I’ll never be quite as beautiful again in your

It was startling, really.

“Let our little sister marry a . . .”

my beauty. I will ensure no woman will ever

“Your doom!” joined Ruby and Lucinda, also

they became unnervingly quiet, twitching with

something dreadful happen? I won’t fall for it,

“Enough! That is but one path he may take!

“Let’s not bore the Prince with our family his-

him, Circe’s hand placed tightly around his throat,

In the first few months there was no sign of a curse:

always been, with Gaston at his side, money in his

name. A bit concerning, but one of the advantages

Put them out of your mind. Remember something else.

She always treated him as such. She saw the best

to talk about that, Prince! Must you always remind

“I suppose there is something to his insane ram-

specific about preserving that moment in time.

tortoiseshell cat with narrowed yellow eyes lined in

He was letting the sisters get to him. He had